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^.^^tr-

BEV. ceo. A. LOFTON. A.M., D.D.

CjUnuM'ini ^i(ET'eilEg;

OR,

THE BLACKBOARD MIRROR.

A 8KRIE8 OF

I1.LUSTKATED Discussions, Depictino those Peculiar.

ITIES OF ChAHACTEU WHICH ConTHIBVTE TO ThS
HWICCLE AND FaUVHK, OH TO THE DlO.

NiTY AND Success, of Mankind.

A I-MO,

Prosen

A Number of Moral. Practical, and Religious Subje.f,

ted m an Entirely New and Striking Manner, illustrated wi

Fifty Engravings from the Original

BLACKBO/IRD DRAWINGS.

th Over

BY GEORGE A LOFTON, A.M., D.D.

O wad some power the giftie pie us,
To see oursels as others see us;
It wad frae tiionv a hUuider free us,
And foolish notion."— Burns.

Wm. Rriggs. Publishrr,
Toronto, Canada.

J ID9J

IS%'

Copyrighted 1890, by

The Southwestern Publishing House.

A// rights reserved.

NOTICE.— The illustrations nppearitifr In this work are from ort^nal drawings, and
are protected bycopyriRht. Notice is hereby given that persons reproducing them i»
any form are guilty of infringement, nnd will be prosecuted.

DEDIGATION,

TO MT pet: w-beinqs, old or youno, afflicted with

TKB SINS, VANITi.o, OR MISFORTUNES OP LIFE; STRUGGLING AGAINST
THE TRIALS, CONFLICTS, OR TEMPTATIONS OF THE WORLD ; IN-
SPIRED BY THE LOFTIER MOTIVES, PURPOSES, AND
HOPES OF TIME AND ETERNITY,

This Volume is Dedieatxfd

BY THE Author.

(3)

PUBLISHER'S PREFACE.

In presenting this volunie to tlie public we do so
believing that it fills a place in literature peculiarly
its own, and that wherever it goes it will be read and
appreciated by the masses of the people with both
pleasure and profit to themselves.

The ancient philosopher wisely enjoined, "Man,
know thyself; " and the poet has longingly sung,

"O Tfad some power the giftie gie us; "
but the man who invented the looking-glass alone
gave us the physical means

"To see oursels as o^/ie?".f see us."
This book is truly a mirror. It flings back upon us
the reflections of our own characters and those of our
neighbors, uncovered and standing side by side, with
a vividness of revelation and a truth of comparison
that must help one to correct his own fliults and ex-
ercise a greater charity toward his unfortunate fel-
lows.

The subject-matter and illustrations of the work
compose a series of forty-one character sketches and
other Illustrated lectures or blackboard talks deliv-
ered recently by Rev. G. A. Lofton before crowded
assemblies on Sunday afternoons. Though delivered
weekly in the same building, they created a genuine
sensation which lasted for a full year, with increasing
intensity from beginning to close. The method em-
ployed was but the lever in the master-hand, Avhioh
resting upon the fulcrum of truth, delighted, while it

pr HLisH ek's prk face.

raised the ma.^ses to a higher pkme of observation,
thought, and knowledge on vital subjects. He chose
this method of caricaturing and exposing error and
teaching practical moral and religious truths for the
benefit of his own congregation, without any expec-
tation of attracting the general public or making a
book. But from the delivery of the first lecture "liis
fame went abroad," and the people, old and young, of
all sects and creeds, thronged to hear him, so that
the large auditorium was seldom adequate to seat the
crowds that came.

The pictures, we are reqnested by the author to
say, are intended to convey the idea, interpret the
thought, or illustrate the character, extreme or pe-
culiar as it may be; hence he has executed them
with a free hand under the full license of the carica-
turist's art, without reference to strict rules of ana-
tomical or mathematical precision. They were all
drawn in colored crayon on a large blackboard to il-
lustrate the lectures. These drawings were photo-
graphed and engraved for the book. The author not
only made the drawing, but, with the exception of
two Bible scenes and ^^DeUrium Tremens,''^ conceived
and designed them to fit the character or thought he
desired to portray.

It is seldom we find predominating in the same in-
dividual the native genius of the orator and the author
who can tell or lorite, coupled Avith that of the artist
who can paint his own ideal conceptions, thus convey-
ing through the double senses the double impression
which can never be forgotten. Such a combination,
however, we have in the author of this Avork. He is
an educated gentleman, an eminent minister, a devot-
ed pastor, and a profound, ])ractical thinker. From

publisiikk's preface.

his youth he has been a close observer of every thing
around him, and the reader has in this volume the
result of accumulated years of observation from many
stand-points of life. On the farm, in the school-room,
in business circles, on the battle-field, around the
camp-fire, from the pulpit, and in the rounds of pas-
toral visitations his keen perceptives have caught and
made a moral diagnosis of every idiosyncrasy and pe-
culiarity of character passHg before him, and with
his wonderful scalpel of caricaturing art he has dis-
sected them before the world.

The work enjoys the distinction of being original,
both in matter and method. It treats practical, every-
day subjects, as well as moral and religious truths,
in a manner that is new, unique, and attractive to the
reader, young or old. Unlike most other works of a
moral purport, it avoids the stilted and Puritanic
manner of expression so commonly used, and, on the
contrary, is brimful of sparkling wit, diverting hu-
mor, and entertaining anecdotes.

While the author is a Baptist minister, the book is
strictly non-sectarian, the discussion of doctrinal dif-
ferences being entirely without the scope of this
work. For further substantiation of this foct, and
indorsemsnt of the work in general, we beg to refer
the reader to the following "Introduction," by Rev.
O. P. Fitzgerald, D.D., editor of the Christian Advo-
cate of Nashville, Tenn. The Publishers.

A WORD WITH THE READER.

The genius for caricature is inborn and inerad-
icable with some persons. It is God-given, and, like
every other natural endowment, it is bestowed for a
good purpose. Like every other good thing, it may
be perverted to evil uses. Wit is the ally of truth
as well as the weapon of wickedness. Humor has
its rightful place in human speech and in literature
just as truly as pathos, and they are usually found
close together; the risible muscles and the lacln-ymal
glands almost touch in the human organism, ^fany
of the greatest preachers possess wit and humor in
a high degree. The sparkling and caustic wit of
Robert South has brought down his sermons from
the seventeenth century to this day. He was the mas-
ter of polished sarcasm, impaling an absurdity on the
point of an antithesis with a skill never surpassed.
Spurgeon s wit is no small element of the popularity
which makes him the first preacher of his genera-
tion. Beecher's wit was irrepressible and brilliant,
and did much toward making the Plymouth pulpit
"^Brooklyn so irresistibly attractive to crowded and
cultured audiences for so many decades. The same
quality is found in Talmage in connection with his
astonishing powers as a word - painter. The wit of
the unique and indescribable Sam Jones has shaken

(7)

A WOllD WITH THK llKADEll.

tlie sides of a continent. Even the stately grandeur
of tlie great Kobert Hall is relieved by flashes of
satire that are like sunshine tinting mountain-peaks.
Other great pi-cachers could be named whos*^ preach-
ing would have been better and whose too rigid the-
ology might have been softened by a little of the
Innnor that makes all the world kin. The Bible itself
is not wholly destitute of satire; it flames out with
terrific i^ower in the contest of Elijah Avith the proph-
ets of Baal on Mount Carmel. On rare occasions,
from the lips even of the loving Jesus, issued words
of withering sarcasm in dealing Avitli the liypocrites
of his day.

Caricature has always been a favorite weapon of
infidelity. The devil himself is an inveterate cari-
catui'ist. If he cannot arrest or destroy a good thing,
he will caricature it. He caricatured the miracles of
Moses in Egypt. The lying spirits of the Old 1 is-
tament caricatured the true prophets of the Lord,
and in the Xcw Testament Avo are Avarned to try the
spirits by certain infallible tests, lest we believe a lie
and come into condemnation.

It is a good thing to Avrest this effective wea])on
from the hand of the enemy, and Avield it for truth
and righteousness. The funny pictures no more be-
long to Satan than the good tunes. The error that
evades an argument may be punctured by ridicule.
The weakness that resists jiersuasion may yield to
shame.

Such is the opinion and aim of the author of this

A WORD AVITir THE KEADKlt.

work, ui)ou whom God 1ms bestowed the gift of the
cancaturist. Some years ago he discovered that he
possessed an aptitude in this direction, and began to
ilhistratt his lectures by blackboard drawings that
served gre-itiy to enhance their interest and value.
The expressions of approval from large and delighted
audiences, and other evidences of the popularity of
this method of teaching and impressing spiritual and
ethical truth, led him to think that these lectures
might, through the printing-press, reach still larger
audiences and do still greater good. Thus encour-
aged, by the advice of friends, and hoping to speak
to the minds and hearts of many who will never hear
his living voice, he has prepared this volume for the
press. This is a worthy aspiration, and its fulfill-
ment will be a rich reward for the labor and pains
expended by our brother in its preparation.

The book is not sectarian, partisan, or personal.
It deals ,vith prevalent follies and weaknesses of meii
and women, both in and out of the Church, in a way
that is pointed but not bitter, plain without harsh-
ness, with the touch of satire minm the virus of mal-
ice or cynicism. It will be read with avidity. The
pictures will strike the eye, while the text will en-
gage the thought of all sorts of readers. Ev.ny
member of the family will find something lu-re to in^-
struct and to entertain. The illustrations will rivet
attention, and the letter-press will reward that atten-
tion with lessons that will be a safeguard against
folly and an incentive to goodness.

A WOUD WITH THE KEADEU.

Wishing well to every well-ineiint ettbrt to use the
press for the advancement of truth, the repression of
error, and the promotion of the welfare of humanity,
1 have examined these lectures with friendly care,
and commentl them to the kindly consideration of the
reading public. Their author, the Rev. G. A. Lofton,
D.D., is my neighbor and fellow-worker in the city
of Xashvillc, where he is serving his Lord as the
popular and successful pastor of the Central Baptist
Church. I cordially commend this product of his
genius to the blessing of God and the good-will of
all who shall read these introductory words.

^^ , .„ O. P. Fitzgerald.

Nashville, December 16, 1889.

CONTENTS.

iHE MOTE-HUNTEn jf,

Stick to Youu Bush 22

Pick Youkselp Up 33

Chukcii Ahhes 4Q

Killing Time—Time Killing You 50

EooK OF Ageh Q-

SLANDEU rjK

Kindness and Cruelty 35

Eir Van Winkle 95

Whipping the Devil around the Stump 102

On the Fence • j^a

Two Masters 120

The Perfect Model jno

Delirium Tremens j^q

The Lightning-bug Conyention 151

Pot Calling Kettle Black 1(33

Sowing and Keaping Wild Oats 173

Profanity jgg

The Sulks 294

The Devil's Sifter 207

Hard-shells 217

Jealousy . nnq

The Law and the Gospel 239

Bed too Short, Blanket too Narrow 248

(11)

CO \ 'IE NTS.

The Dbui

;nkard's Last Offering 'gsJ

The Two Ways '

The PitoFEHSioNAL Lun ' g^g

Power op Temptation

The Five Asinines 200

Strain Out a Gnat, Swallow a Camel 308

The Little Foxes " 321

A Fight with Conscience ggj

Church Crutches o,^

o4b

The Crook and the Crank 0,-9

Shimei Throwing Stones ,.r.q

Fast Young Man Treed „ g^g

House on a Rock .^gg

Big "I" and Little "You" 397

The Devil a-fishing ,q9

Little and Big End op Life's Horn ' 419

Beauty a Duty ^go

THE MOTE-HUNTER.

I^^'J^ 'T''"'^' l^'^'<"'-«"l'oi.tieal surgery
m . '"^ !"""•' "'■ " ''^'Ix'CTite. It w«H ono
of the siiis of infhnit.si.nal iniquitv, of mi-
croscopic turi.itu.lc, a,u.>no. the Pharisees;

>'< lH.sspcc.es of Pharisaism h:s an aInuKlant
UKl hLvunant repr<Hl„ction in t, U and every
other ag-c. ^'' ^^ ].v behoUlest thon ,ho n, -te that is in
thy brother s eye, bnt considerest not tl, beam that
IS m th.neown eye? Or ho^-nilt thou say to thy
brother Let me pull out the mote- out of rhino eye;
">ul, l)eIiohl, a beam is in thine oun eve? Thou hvD
ocrite first east out the beam out of 'thine ■ wn eve-
ami tl^n th.m Shalt, see clearly to cast out ^he n^te
out of thy brothers eye." Tliis is the p, eceptivo
portraa wh.ch Jesus drew of this species of hypoc'
nsy; and the picture I Inne drawn as an ilh. t.-ation
of It shows an old, hnn,p-bac-ked, long-fneed, e ooked-
nosed liypocnte complacently and cruel]., pie in-. i
mote out of his neighbor's eye, while a^ bear Zo-
tnuesv.s,blyfromhisown. He is giving his . ictim
a the pa.n he can, and the poor fellow unde goes
abou the same torture that a person does when he
gets a railroad c.nder extracted by the optician, after
having been made to feel the mis'ery of the s "m fhr
about three days. The hypocrite ^alcl! ;:;!;:::.!:::

(15)

THE MOTK-HUiNTER.

W-

pains to make us keenly sensible of the mote in our
eye long- before lie uould extract it; and when he goes
to take it out he puts his instrument into the very
socket ol' your eye. If you notice, he is left-handed
m the op(M-ation; and I want to lay down the proverb:
Tke mote-hunter ahmijs (pes for your eye with his sinister
hand. He is both mean and awkward about it, and he
aims to hurt you all he can.

The mote-hunter is by far the most microscopic of
all the animalcule species. He is always in a small
business, expecting to produc big results. His cap-
ital consists in mites, and he Uas the refined and ex-
quisite faculty of producing more to the amount in-
vested than any other man engaged in the business
of meanness. He is narrow between his sunken eyes;
his forehead is deep, contracted, and sloping; his nose
IS long and crooked; his chin turns up to meet its
aquihne brother; his jaws are hollow, and his cheek-
bones prominent; his lips are thin, and his mouth is
niei-etricious. He is a little man, and he deals in lit-
tle things; ami, being a hypocrite, he never troubles
about big things in others, however big or monstrous
his own sms. His proclivities are such that no lions
ever lie in his ],ath; but he hunts bugs and kills in-
sects. He wouhl stand and stamp the life out of
chigoes for an hour at a time. Elephants, tigers, hy-
enas, these never seem to occur to his weasel-intel-
lect; and condors, eagles, buzzards, they never fly in
the atmosphere of his contracted brain. His nam'e is
little J omtif, Titmouse, Titcomb; and, being a hyp-
ocrite, he lands among the grass, not for worms and
g-rasshoppers, but for invisible insects. He could not
swallow a June-bug at all, and an ordinary house-fly
would choke him to death. He is a -small potato,''

THE MOT»iiuXTEB.

and rotten at that; and there is^n^h^^^^^^^i^T^^eh
can properly curicatnre his littleness and meanness

In business this old hypocrite is a ''skinflint " and
asit IS quaintly and vulg-arly expressed, -heVould
skin a ih'ti lor his hide and tallow." He is "peunv
wise and pound foolish; " and he deals in coppcM^
and petty cash accounts alone, l^o trust nor confi-
dence does he repose in his fellow-man, especially in
small things; and he never has any thing big. to deal
m. He treats God in the same way he treats his fel-
low-man Ml business, if he is in the Church-and he
almost always is-and when he gives, he peels off the
ragged ten-cent bill from his little roll, or puts in the
nickel with a hole in it, palmed off upon him bv some-
body at last, after twenty years' effort to chelit him
He claims that all he has belong-, to God, but that he
must take care of the Lord's money; and hence he
can stand with unabashed countenance and emotion-
a indifterence before the broad charity and o-enerous
liberality of others. He spits in the fire whe^ iU.:ii.
sumes the coal too fast, and his economy would steal
the oats from his own horse. It is said that one such
was a deacon-member of a Baptist Church in Tennes-

piety and for his merciless penuriousness. His pastor

ad preached a year for his Church, and had received

iiothing. He arose one Sunday morning-, at the close

food '.T";,'"' T''^ '^'''' ^'' ''■'' "^ "^-^ «f »-"ey,
ood, clothing, and that the Church owed him and dk

ot pay him The old hypocritical deacon arose in
ei%, and said: ''Go on, pastor, and preach the go -

^ha 1 live of the gospel.' The Lord will give you
souls for your hire." "Yes," said the prstc^/'l

THE MOTE-HUXTER.

know God will give me souls for my hire, and com-
fort my heart; but I can't cut souls; my family and
my horse can't feed on souls; and if Ave could, it
would take about seventy-five souls of your size to
make us a breakfast." The stingy old molecule took
his seat, and tlie brethren paid the debt. How many
of these 'it tic, covetous, stingy hypocrites infest the
Churches, like moths that eat through the hive, de-
stroy the honey, and kill the bees!

Again, this old mote-hunter is characteristic in
discipline. He is exceedingly cautious abont i-ecciv-
ing Church-members, especially when they are young.
If any man cruelly catechises them, it will be he.
"With his long face and hypocritical cant, he Avill ex-
amine minutely the candidate for baptism upon all
the jjoints of Christian experience, which he closely
studies and sacredly guards — that is, in others — and
in nine cases out of ten, Avhen he is allowed to exam-
ine, he will object to something in the best experi-
ence which would be given at the door of the Church.
Intellectually keen and technical, he is totally unspir-
itual, having the confidence of nobody; and yet he is
the judge of every man's religion, down to the jots
and tittles. In matters of oifense against the Church
he carries a shot-gun for every trifling infraction — es-
pecially against the young people. A parlor dance,
an amateur stage-play, a card-party, the circus, or
even a play at the social— O these are simply awful!
He doesn't mind taking four per cent, a month on
money loaned. He counts the grains of coffee when
he goes to balance the scales. lie is a Shylock for
every drop of blood in the i)ound of flesh which for-
feits your promise. He will take any legal shift to
avoid a moral obligation. lie will rob the widow

THE MOTI'>HUXTEI?.

_^19

and the orplian wlien defenseless by justice; and 1,^
will turn the poor mother and her babe upon the
streets if every cent of the rent does not come up at
the end of the month. He denounces the saloon and
the poor drunkard, but will keep a demijohn of "re-
freshment" behind the door, with a sprig- of snake-
root in It in order to claim it for bitters. O ves, he
Will do all this, and yet he will " iire " the youn- frol-
icker out of the Church upon the very first cluu-e of
inconsistency. He picks motes out of other ]>eopIe'8
eyes, but leaves the beam in his own everv time

^^e find these flaw-pickers amongst eve.-y class of
people, not only men and women who can intellectu-
ally split a hair between the north and the north-
west side, but who can see a mosquito on the top of o
a house, and never see the house itself. We find
them among our critical preachers, sometimes, who
sk.n you al.ve for the least defect in preachincv or
practice; and yet they are totally blind to their own
defects especially their mean and narrow-minded
spirit of criticism and censure. There are thousands
of people on a broader or more contracted plane who
are ever finding- fault with other people, when their
own sins and failures stick out of their eyes and their
ives like great beams of offense. God deliver me
trom a flaw-picking- and a mote-hunting spiriti I o
would lather be almost any other character hi Bun-

muck-.ake ever lookin,g down, and never look-
S- up. I desp.se that spirit, especially, which goes
thiougli your garden, and, instead of plucking flow-
ers, only picks weeds, hunts bugs, an.l goes awav
complaining that it can find nothing beautiful and
good. How many people go to God's apple-tree, full

THE MOTE-nUXTEK,

of luscious fruit, and yet hunt for some diminutive,
speckled, shriveled, little upple, put it in their pock-
ets, and go off to represent the tree by the specimen
plucked, when they could have filled themselves with
the best of fruits ever grown. As they do God and
religion they do every thing good and glorious.
They hunt for the little spots on the sun; and the
moon is a fraud because they can see a man in it. A
fleecy speck in the clear, blue vault of heaven, with
them, spoils the most beautiful day; and if a Avhole
grand character or life is flecked with a scar or a
stain never so small, they counterbalance the over-
shot wheel of overwhelming good and honor by the
under-current of little, mean, low criticism and cen-
sure. If Spurgeon or Talmage should squint his eye
When preaching, it Avould ruin his eloquence and
power; and if one of them should create a smile by a
humorous remark, they would never go to hear him
again. The old Scotch lady who was so scrupulous
about Sabbath ol)servance, to whom was cited the
example of the Saviour and his disciples pluckino-
and eating the ears of corn on the Lord's-day, and
who replied, ''And I never thought any the better of
him for it, either," is a case in point.

After all, these flaw-pickers and mote-hunters do us
good. They keep us on the watch and the alert, and
on the scratch, as do the mostiuitoes and fleas and
flies. They are aivays around and about us. Ser-
pents, tigers, and hyenas ai-e more rare, and we can
guard against larger and more conspicuous beasts of
torture and prey, but you cannot keep out of the way
of the little stingers. The mote-hunter is sure to find
you and give you a lively time in this world; and, be-
ing properly exercised thereby, they work out for us

THE MOTE-HUNTEK.

the peaceable friiitn of righteousness. They keep iis
well trimmed and pnrticular, and in all the little and
nicer points of life they contribute largely to etiquette,
punctiliousness, and scrupulosity in small as well as
in great things. They help considerably to kill off
the little ioxes which spoil our vines and eat our ten™
der grapes, and for all the good they do us, whatever
the absence of good motive, we should be profoundly
grateful. The good they do is incidental to their
meanness mid littleness; but this is the compensation,
m (rod s all-wise and overruling providence, which
accrues to those who desire and try to do rio.],t in
spite of their infirmities. The mote-hunter- the thuy-
picker— has a mission. These animalcuUe of the mi-
croscopic world are our multitudinous and infinitesi-
mal scourges, and if we are improved thereby, we
should always thank God, take courage, and go for-
ward to a better conduct of life.

STICK TO YOUR BUSH.

-^><x-»

1^,^^^^ ^''^^y^ ^"*^^ 8'"'1« "^vent into the Avoods to
^)f.'^(S^ 1''''^^ bcn-ics; and, as is usual, most of them
|)^i|jM ' ])hi yt'd al)out ; a few of them picked easual-
^y!o§ 1y. l'"f"i' ''"^li to busli; one, it is said, stuck to

rlm5 ^"^ ''"'^'' ""^'^ ''^ ^"^ *^'^ berries from it, and
^4^^ soon went home with his bucket full. In the
picture you see some running- around, one lying- flat
on his back, one dancing, and another standing
upon his head; one sitting- near the industrious boy
looking on, and another leaning ag-ainst a tree and
looking as if he ex])ects to get, without laboring him-
self, the berries this boy has picked. It is just so
with the Avorld. One man labors, and another expects
to reap without sowing; while a large number play, or
else work in such a desultory and inefficient manner as
to accomplish but little. Some sleep, some idle, some
Avatch for others' labor; but life is "a hard road to
travel" to the man who does not work, whether he
steals or gand)!es oi- begs; and the moral of the
whole story is that he Avho sticks to his bush is almost
always certain of success. The motto of life is : " Stick
to your bush."'

^N'ow it is highly important for a man to start right
in the world by selecting the right kind of a bush to
stick to. Some people stick to a very poor bush
2 (22)

STICK TO YOUR HUSH.

some to a very bad one; and lience for some the fruits
of life are meager, ibr others poisonous. We do not
want to select a barren tree, nor do we want one
that bears evil fruit. In choosing the vocations of
life we need to follow that which suits onr talents and
peculiarities of g-enius; and if we make a mistake at
first, we must search for the right tree nntil we find
it. Many a good farmer has only made a second-class
lawyer or doctor; and numy a splendid mind has wast-
ed its energies behind the plow-handles— a place, how-
ever, where wasted genius has never done any harm.'
Some men debauch lifeand talent behind the connter of
a bar-room; but this is choosing a bohun-upas be-
neath which to die yourself, and beneath which you
draw others to circle, center, and die. The great point
in life is for one to choose what lie can best do, and
then stick to it until he succeeds ; and herein lies a great
lesson for teachers, parents, and preachers to learn,
since they have so much to do in molding the mind
and shaping the destiny of the young. I knew a prom-
inent and wealthy lawyer once, who had a son i)os-
sessed of a mechanical genius of extraordinary devel-
opment. He educated his boy in that direction, and
finally gave him to an apprenticeship in a machine-shop,
where lie worked hard for years. That boy is now the
master mechanic in one of the great i-ailroad shops of
this country, filling an honorable and lucrative posi-
tion. His father first encouraged him vo study law; but
the boy's native bent, chose the mechanic bush, and
his lifp, perhaps a failure in law, has proved a success
and blessing in the direction of native capacity and
qualification. Often we make mistakes in choosing
the right bush, and as often we see fitful, spasmodic",
and unsuccessful lives. Sometimes Ave see men who

2(i

STICK TO yoLU KUSII.

are Kliil'tiiii,'- all the wliile from bush to biwli, never
8nccec(rm<^ at aii}^ thing — '" Jack-at-r.ll-trade.s, and
good Tor nothing/' ruHllIlug the old i)i-ovorl) that "a
rolling stone never gathers any niosw."

The great niissfbrtune of this labor-saving age lies in
the fact that too many peoi)le are hunting jjrofessions
and solt ])lac'es Avho would do inlinitely better on the
farm or in the mac'liinc'-sho|). I'he oousiMiuence is —
in the feouth e-^peeiidly, Avliei-e the negro rents and
runsandruins the **old i)lantation" — our lands are <ro-
ing to rack, with but little exception, while our boys
are all going to the city, and as mauy of the negroes as
can get there. 'I'he agricult ural bush, the mosv beauti-
ful andesseutiaU is left to witliei- and lerish, wlicreas a
first-class agi-icultural education would turn nuiuy a
genius into the cbaunel of its greatest usefulness, and
make our sunny hind the garden spot of. the world.
AVe do pretty well on ffiiano at the hands of novices
and soil-annihilators; but what a country avc could
have if Ave had the imiversally educated farmer! We
shall have to wait for the German ivnd the live Yankee;
while our farmers rent out their beautiful lands to
negroes, go a-fishing in spi-ing-tiine, run little stores,
and sit around small towns whittling sticks or run-
ning for office. O for a splendid class of farmers
educated to scientific toil, and anxious to stick to
the agricultural bush! Our country places would
spring up from dilapidation; our gullied hills would
grow green again with grass and clover; fine cattle
would low and graze upon a thousand hills; school-
houses Avould dot the land; good country Churches
would cease to starve poor preachers; and law and
order and cultui-e would refiue and develop the old-
fashioned countr}' home, as we used to have it. Boys

STKK TO YOUR HUSH.

and fe'irlH, more of you ntick to the old lUnn bush and
make it gi'ow.

llavin-- ibiiiid the rio-ht bush in life, the great point
is to Htic'k to it. Continuity a, id tenacity — " Hticka-
bility," as it is vulgarly called— is one of tiie prime
elements of siu'cess. A man may jjossess every oth-
er quality and qualiticalionj but, thin wanting, the
grandest talents and gifts will prove a failure. Ge-
nius consists in ability, nu.tive, and will, coui)led
with energy, zeal, and system; and when such a ge-
nius can hold on, Ik, Id fast, and hold „ut, in the prop-
er calling of life, n< ling but disease and misfortune
can bring failure. Opportunity will uever be want-
ing; for tenacity will always find nn opportunity for
success in. the generous course of time. I remember,
twenty years ago, a youth in a ccrtaiu city w))o se-
cured a paper-stand in the corner of a post-office
front. lie had a taste for books and papers; aiul, in
connection with his little stand, lie sold pea-nuts, can-
dies, and other ti-i fling articles of merchandise, exer-
cising a i-igid economy over his paltry means. In a
year or two he had laid ui) some moiu-y, and he rent-
ed a snudl store-house, when he enlarged his busi-
ness and increased his capital. In a few years more
he i-ented a larger house, and set up a bookstore of
grander proportions. It was not long until he owned
the store and was doing a flourishing business. He
now owns several stores, an o])era-house, and a con-
siderable amount of real estate in the city. He stuck
to his bush— went in at the little eiul of life's horn,
and he is coming out at the big end, while thousands
try to go in at the big end only to come out at the
little end. So thousands have done in business; and
our greatest men in all the callings and professions

STICK TO VOL'K ULSll.

, (

of lilb to-day are thoHo who cIiohc thoir busli early
unci .stuck t." it. 'i'lie Ahtors, the Yundcrl.iltH, the
{Stewarts— the milliuiiaires of Aiueriea— In-^^.m poor
nml by littles, and gradually worked their way up to
fortune and ])roniinenee u])ou their "one idea" of
success; anil this is largely the history of the world's
enterprise and i)rog-ress in every land and age.

J knew a young man who studied law hy the light
of a pine-knot lire at night, working hard ni)on the
farm by day. To be a lawyer uas his idea and his
amJ)ition, and with the aid of an old practitioner he
was at last fitted for admission to the )>ar. lie Avent
to a small town and i-ented an oUice of small pro])()r-
tions, with a table and a few books which his scanty
means had enabled him to purchase, being also fee-
bly aided by a poor father. Ho mt in that otlice for
five years before ho ever got any thing like an ini-
poi-tant case; but he stuck to his bush— his books-
ami thus accumulated cajjital for future business. Au
• old lawyer friend secured for him a place in a great
criminal trial in an adjoining ct)unty, and the young
man had to walk ten miles and carry his books upon
Ins back in order to attend the trial. His speech was
so able and marked for its eloquence and power that
he made a reputation at a single leap, and from that
time on his ])ractice grew into a lucrative business.
He went to the Legislature, the Senate, ran for Con-
gress, and before he died lie sat upon the supreme
bench of one of our Southern States. This story of
struggle and conflict against poverty, obscurity, and
adversity is but one of a thousand which illustrates
the fact that true manhood and greatness arise from
the persistency of a single idea against all odds to
successful consummation.

-4

•I

f^TWK TOYoiru mrsir.

__^^__ "■^

Then. iH n.. royal path to honor, frU^yy, ov weal^i

at best; and ihosi, who have hec-n .ud.lc-nlv or instru-

"UMitally liftoa t., hioh position Heldo,u ^.alulain it

without havii.o- been ediu^iited to receive it. The

only road to -ivat and nltinmte Huecess in be'dewed

with the sweat and tears of ,,atient pertinacity and

tn-owth .n life's callings. Jt consists in choosin.. a

good l)„sh an.l 1,1 stlckinj. to it. Let the beo-lnninos

be what they may, '^ ntick to your bush."

What is true of tlie secular callings of life is also
true Ml religion. The faculties of concentrative-
ness and adhesiveness belong to the nu.ral as well
as to t^ho business character of a man. You often see
the d.fierencT ,n Sunday-«chooI scholars and Church-
"HMnl,ers. One is always at his post; another is ever
on the pad, ni and out, tnunj,ing from one school or
C Imrch to another, or otherwise ],in-suing an irre-n-
ar and unsteady course. You can generallv r^ad

n/;:^'"f"'':^^''^''^'"''"''^-^^-^-'-'-"th<^^

characteristics of boys and girls as illustrated in their
tenacious or desultory attachment to the Sunday-
«ehool and the Church. Jf I were hunting for a so •-
ice lK>y or watching out for a partner in business or
a companion lor life, I would as soon go to the Sun-
c a^^sehoo and the Church as anywlu.e else. Here

H jckab.hty ' sticks out, olYen contrary to natui.:

tself, and it is not unfrequently here, from both

temporal and eternal stand-points, that character and

estniy arc fixed and made. S<mie people begin in
the btmday-school in childhoo.l, and th^y nev^r <.et

c"me?Cl'"''f' '"'^ '"""" '''' niost\irdent r.ul
ae oted Church-members; and much depends upon
tl at tenacious disposition which sticks to your bush
Ihere are but lew exceptions to the rule; and it ij

STICK TO YOUR BUSH.

generally observed that religious life thus begun
holds out best in the long run. There are some peo-
p e who^ go frona Church to Church, not as a matter
of conviction, but ibr the want of settled convictions
and hxed purposes; and it may be set down as a fact
that such lives are fruitless of any good. A man will
do more good by sticking even to some erroneous
views HI religion than to be hunting for truth always,
and never finding it. Some men change from con-
viction, and stick when changed. They find a bet-
ter bush perhaps; but it does no good to change too
otten, much less to be always changing. The best
plan IS to find a good religious bush to begin with,
and then stick to it. Some stick, however, who do
no good; but, as a rule, under all circumstances, how-
ever erroneous in minor respects a man's position,
stickmg IS better than rolling. Almost any religious
bush 18 better than no bush; and if a man will take
his Jiible and follow his convictions, he will not be
Jong m finding a bush to stick to, and, sticking to it,
he will fill his basket for eternity.

PICK YGURSELF UP.

^iWrfllE ilhistriitioii preceding- this sketch shows
^^ffi '' 1*"*^"' ^""^'"o^v, i\n- any leason, down iji the
' world. JIo is surrcjundcd by seven char-
I', actcrs principally representing- the many who
oi)pose and the lew who help him. Oji his back
is the bold and ontspoken eiiein}- who " sits down
upon him." In his front is the man Jess bold who
stands at a distaneo and throws stojx-s at him. In
his rear is the sneak who slij)s np behind Inm and
kicks him. On the left oriiim stand three characters
— the left-hand of whom is a bnsiness man who looks
on Willi cold concern, bnt who feels that it Avould not
" pay " to help him. On the right of the three is the
policy man who ])olitely presses liis hands together
and concludes that it might not be "])opular" to help
him. In the midst of the three is the regular old hyp-
ocrite, heartless and blind with ])rejudice, who walls
his eyes heavenward and says, "]le had no business
to get down in the world, to do wrong. Let him
stay where he is; he ought to be there;" and while
he takes no positive pai-t in keeping him down, except
by a cold, philosophical criticism of his sins or errors,
he will do nothing to encourage his getting- up. In
fi'ont of the i)oor follow a Avoniau, re|)reseuting true
charity, is seen taking him by the hand and helping

(33)

II*"

PICK VULUSKLF LP.

him up in tlie face ..f all his (.pi)()Hition. The picture
rrpresonts a man tlotenninccl to rise, and the Iblh.wins
sketch of my lectm-e on this sul)jeet o-ives a little ad-
vice to tlie point. Several other eharaeters, of min()r
importance, hoth opposin<>- and hel|>in«>- the man who is
down, might have heeu represented, hut tliese suflice,
in general outline, to show tlie chief dilliculties of a
rising man, especially when he is once down.

i^fothing is more common than i'or jieople to stum-
ble and nUl, and it is about as true morally as it is
phvsicidlv. There are l)Ut few people in the world
wlio nevJr made a mistake, committed a blunder, nor
o-ot a tund))e of some kind, even in the plainest path
marked out for human conduct. People are often
safest in the most dangerous way, because more on
their ouiird. Hverv boy has stumpe<l his toe, and, not
unfrequently, npon^thc smooth ])avcment an orange or
a banana-peel causes us to slip and bruise (mr body,
if we do not break our back or crack our head. Some-
times these falls are fatal or maim us for lile. but gen-
erally we get up i'gain, either by ourselves or by the
help of others- -nu)re or less hurt— and in a little or a
o-reat while wi- are up and out again. So in the hus-
hiess and social alVairs of life. Ho who attempts or
risks much— meets the tem])tations and oppositions of
the world— sometimes errs, stnmhles, and falls, and,
like the physical man, he may fall fatally or get badly
liurt or casually bruised. In the ruin of IninseU,
soiuetimos he gets beyond the possihility of selt-ref-
ormation, or, in the eyes of mankind, he may be unable
to reach restoration to position or honor. In any
event, however, if self-ruin has not been wrought, or
if our lall is not beyond recovery in the eyes of inen,
we have the same encouragement that a physically

riCIC YOUHSIOM' UP.

:{5

hurt luiin Iwis to rueovor; and if wc liuvo not comniit-
tcd iin im|>ar(l(>iiiil)Ie criiiu' in God's (siglit, wo luive
the chance and the iiispinition to rise to lieaven,
whether \V(! can recover willi oiw relh)w-inau or not.
lie that lias never stuiul)led nor fanen — never erred
nor (h>ne wrong- — lias never traveled Jar nor atteni])ted
much; and our case must he an exceedingly had ono
not at last to have tiie general sympathy of mankind
in getting upon our feet agaiii if we keep on trying.

When you fall, my friend, pick yourself up. This
is a case of ordinary i)ossi])iIity; and in every case of
restoration wc have ono of the suhjimest illustrations
of manhood. I like the hoy who stum])s his toe, knocks
olf the nail, tumbles heels over head, and, without a
grunt or a whine, gets up again, grins and hears it,
and goes lini[)ing on his way. The little fellow that
sprawls out and bawls, and waits for his mother to come
and pick liim up, i)et and cddjc him till he gets well,
is not the fellow to |»ick himself u|> and get on his ieet,
a-going again. It is always a mark of manhood not to
f'lll, if we are doing any thing in the world; but it is
often a mark of greater manhood to ])ick yourself up
when down than it is in some ])eopIe not to tumble at
all. Some people deserve but little credit for not fall-
ing. Cold-hearted or well balanced, so conditioned
or cii'cumstanced in life as never to meet tem])tation
or trial, they never get in the way of a tumble.
Some are negative and inert, or never subjected to
conlli(!t with the world; and they never "spoil a horn
to make a spoon." They never make any spoons; and
it is useless to talk about manhood being put to the
test in such people. They do not compare, for man-
hood, with the p(jor fellow who has hvcn trying to do
Bomething in conflict with the world and his own nat-

TICK YOUUSKLK TTI'.

nre, and, tl.ouoh i-ullen, has pidccMl hiniself up and
IS mtikino- j, ,„:,ii of himself onco more. IVrhaps he
had a tliousaiul ooniru^ts wuh liiniscir and with nU the
powers of seductive evil, of delusive darkness, of
which the other man iievei- rlreamed. The man who
picks himself up and goes on a-ainst the douhle oi)ik)-
sition of his own weakness and the world's attemj^ts
to crush him, against the fricticm of hahit and of a
lost or damaged character, displays a heroic man-
hood jf he rises again to position and honor. But
few ever do it, because few ever press to the end the
hei-oic remedy of self-treatment.

It is a sad fact that, in extreme cases, so few of the
fallen, or failing, ever ])ick themselves up. All about
us the world is strewn with liuman wrecks, and no age
ever witnesse.l greater efforts upon the part of charity
for human restoration. Thousands fall, and seem to
persist in falling, especially in drunkenness, lewdness,
and other ^ ices, when, if they would, the world never
before offered such chances to rise again. After all,
the world admires heroes; and old Time is a wonderful
healer and forgetter of the past. He that can him-
self be ins])ired to forget the things behind him, and
can be juade to press for the prizes of the future be-
fore hir.i, has a thousand chances of honor and posi-
tion he imagines are forever lost to him when down in
the world. The nuin struggling to rise in faith and hoi^e
always has God on his side; and God and the hero,
struggling for restoration and manliood, are a big
majority against all opposition. Earth and liell com*^
bined cannot battle down such a man or woman. I
don't care what such a man or woman may have done,
how far or low he or she may have fallen into crime
and disgrace, recovery is possible, at least in virtue

IMf!K YOUJJSELF UP.

and lienor, and in the conscionsness of rectitude and
happiiies.s; and, under God, there is no telling what po-
sition such a man or woman may attain to, even amon-
inen, if health and life do not forsake them too sooiu
<^od 8 o-race is sufHcient for the restoration of every
wreck of life, willing and determined to be and do sonie-
thino- ag-ain. Mary .Alagdalene, the thief on the cross,
•John }i. Cough, and thonsands of others have been
saved and elevated to honoi- and position by reli<.-ion
-Duvid picked himself up, under God; and Samson
might have done so before the Philistines if he had not
lost his eyes, and God had so willed. ]\Iillions have
picked tliemselves up, have lived honorable and useful
lives before they died, and have gone home shoutino-
to God and to glory, saved and sanctified by grace and
grit combined.

_ I wish to notice two great difficulties in the way of
picking yourself up, and which have to be overcome:
1. Uur own weahiesses. A man once down losr^s
self-confidence and often self-control, and bv repeat-
ing his falls he continues to weaken all the forces of
manhood. Bad habit breaches the fortress of charac-
ter, and every repetition of vice in the line of bad habit
opens wider still the breach, however often repaired.
-i man may become so discouraged by his own weak-
ijess growinoMveaker still, that every motive to rise is
finally lost Pride and ambition, hope and resolution,
take their flight, and sooner or later the sense of virtue
and honor becomes deadened, the strong column of
conscience crumbles from under the fabric of char-
acter, and the victim of habit loses all the elements of
manhood upon which to work for restoration. Often
there is nothing left, apparently, for God and religion
to work upon. There is a point, therefore, at which the

PICK YOUnSELF UP.

: I

ktr

fallen must stoiJ — a point beyond Avliich to go, and
recovery seems impossible. The deadening of the
soul's faculties by continued indulgence — the loss of
Bclf-confidencc and control — added to the conscious-
ness of the -Nvoi'ld's contempt and abhorrence of us,
and a man will soon lose all hope and linally plunge
into the vortex of inextricable and irretrievable ruin,
as thousands do. Hence the nuiu who would jiiclc up
must take his case in time, and, with all the help he can
get irom CJod and others, he must go to the work of
repairing the bi'caches of weakness in the fortress of
his own character. Ho must take his case in time,
and not wait, as many consumi)tivcs do, who go to
Florida or Colorado, too late and simply to die.

2. Another difliculty in the way is the uncharita-
ble and the tempting world — to say nothing of the
devil himself. A man's enemies, and the cold, un-
charitable element of humanity around him, will take
pleasure in arraying his past history before him, and
his old companions in vice, stronger than himself —
and the very agents of the devil for ruin — will seek
to draw him back to the horrible pit ami the miry
clay. The Puritanic and the Pharisaic will scowl him
into hell itself, if possible — thrust him into obscuri-
ty, at best, and tell him, if he does i-cform or rise, he
must keep a back scat the balance of his life. Such
people never ])ick anybody up, never help anybody
but themselves and their oavu. Upon the Avhole, how-
ever, the majority of the world is more charitable than
Ave think, and a man trying to rise Avill have just about
enough to hel}) him pull his kite-string, Avhile there
will be plenty enough to create a breeze of opposition
Buflicient to nnike it rise, if he Avill keep on pulling
the string. This is just about as it should be, for a

PICK YOURSELF UP.

miin needs ciior-Tfh opposition to rise up successfully,
a])pi-eciatc his lall, and stay picked up when ho g-ets
lip. It would not do to get up too easily, else he
would not stay U|), and tlie harder tlie fig-ht he has in
getting up, if he stays up, the better for hiui. It
would be all thebetter for hiiu if he could light it out
all unaided and aloue. JIc would then be better able
to staiul and to becouie all the more useful and emi-
nent if he turned his talents aud energies, thoroughly
educated by sad cxi)erience, into the channels of cfod's
glory; and let me conclude by saying that no oue
upon earth is so capable of doing his fellow-inau good
as a thoroughly and permaueutly reformed man or
wonum. They know themselves, and they know the
world better thau any other class of people; and if
they will only turu their experience into the gold of
other's good, they nuiy rapidly lay up treasure in
heaven as no other class of people can do. Unfort-
nuate men aud women, pick yourselves up. There is
a chance for you all, if you have not iallen too hard
and killed yourself in the utter loss of your moral and
intellectual strength. Ordinarily, there is a bright
and glorious i'uture for every fallen and failing victim
of vice or misfortune 'deteruiiued to rise u[) and live
again. The Avorld always kicks a fellow Avhen he is
down. It loves to Avallow hiiu in the mud; but the
world always shouts applause, at last, to the man who
rises and returns the compliment by wallowing it in
the mud. Don't be so much afraid of the world as of
yourself, and be sure that God is on your side if you
only trust him. Xobody can hurt a man half so bad-
ly as himself, and nobody can help a man when hart
half so effectively as himself. Pick yourself up.

GHURGH ASSES.

->♦<—

JvFOHE procccdinj^ to discuss my subject let
'^^^^ me ex[)lain the hlackbonrd pictun; wliicli I
'^ liMvedr:i\\iirortlu;ucc'..!^i()U. Tlie scene is a

cliui'cli Jiudieiice, bei'oi-c which Ji luinister is
tryiiii;: to ])rcach the g-ospel of tlie Son of God.
This audience is seated before him, and in tlio
main trying to listen to his discourse. Yoii will observe,
however, that there are quite a ]nind)er of disturbers
sprinkled throu<;h the assembly of the saints. These
disturbers are distinguished by asinine lieads, the only
true mark of a cliurch disturber. On the front row
you observe one looking back and piissing a note to an-
other on the second row, Avho is scribbling a note in a
hymn-book. At both ends of the third row you see a
cou])le of ''gabblers," who represent the "braying ass
and the hiughing jenny," seen upon almost every occa-
sion in tlie house of God. At the farther end of the
fourth and fifth rows you observe two engaged in
backward and forward conversation across the ]m>ws,
in so l)old and boisterous a style as not oidy to disturb
those around them, but as to indicate that they regard
themselves as the only personages of importance in
the conjrreu'aticm. Kear the center of the sixtli row
there is a greenhorn of a donkey Avho is looking be-
hind him at the congregation in his rear. On the last

(40)

c
o

V)
V)

CllUUL'II ASSES.

row you behold u courting- couplu in wwcct convcrae —
"billing- and cooing" duriiig- tlii> sermon, and cannot
wait one hour i'or ii better opijortunity. la the rear
i8 a dude eoniing late and one goings out, displayin*^
theii- bandsoiiu'iiess before the i)e()[»le as they ualk
up and down the aisles — usually, but not always, ae-
ooni|)anied by a '• dudine." At the door you discover
two "'fiends" asinine peeping- in upon the audience,
and wailing lor the close of the service t(j gaze upon
the girls as they i)ass<)ut, show off llieir red neck-ties
and stove-pipes, get up a llirtal ion, and " make a mash."
The one farthest outside is smoking a cigarette, the
fumes of which lie occasionally whiffs into the door of
the church. At the windows of tlic clinrch you behold
the peeping ass, several of which are jjcering into the au-
dience, attracting attention instead of coming- in and
respectfully taking a seat and listenings to the sermon
like gentlemen. All this is a scene which may, in whole
or in part, bo witnessed in many places and sections
of our country.

Now I do not mean that any of you who sit before mo
this afternoon belong- to this long-eared confraternity.
You are all retined and well-behaved boy - and girls,
you ' ^entlemen and ladies, as well as old. 80 you need
nt)t think me personal. A perfect type of lialaam's
saddle-horse could not now bo found, I suppose, in my
audience; and the puri)ose of this lecture is to put you
npon your guard, so that you may always recognize this
beast at church, and so to become disgusted that you may
never imitate his example, but shun his company and
despise his chai-acter. Moreover, the lecture will aid
you, should you ever so forgot yourself in the house
of God as to imitate the conduct of this animal, to
recognize, upon reflection, ijoin ^elf. I want my picture

! i

C'UUltCII ASSES.

to be a kind of looking-glass for the future. The
caricature does not fit any other animal so well as the
ass, which is only a simple, long-eared, leather-headed
beast, lie never means any great harm by what
he does, unlessyou irritate him to kick, or pull against
his stubbornness. He brays and plays the fool gen-
erally, for the want of sense. Those who by misbe-
havior distnrb worship in God's house are generally
" lacking in tlie upper story." They are frivolous and
light-minded creatures who sometimes have very good
hearts. Sometimes they have sensibilities enough to
be sorry upon reflection, when they have brains enough
to be convinced of wrong. I have seen some such ; and
really there are only a few mean enough to misbehave
in God's house from vicious motives. A sap-head, not
a bad heart, is usually the cause, and the church ass is
rather to be pitied than despised. A man is less respon-
sible for an empty head than for a bad heart. Never-
theless, for stupidity and folly, punishment of some
kind is the only corrective of the ass, as of any other an-
imal. He has to be beaten with many stripes, although
to him much has not been given.

My friends, there are many ways in vv^hich this un-
fortunate animal displays himself to disadvanttige.
Let me now analyze his church performances, which
make men ashamed and which make angels blush:

1. It is quite asinine to turn your head and look be-
hind yon while seated in church. Eefined people
never do it; and refined people do not like to have
people turn and stare at them while sitting behind you,
or when coming in. Occasionally an ass comes in
just to be seen, as only asses do; but Avhile staring at
such Avould not hurt the ass, it would hurt you. How-
ever, it would be an unjust encouragement to asinine

CHUKCII ASSES.

vanity, and it would be disrespect to the minister as well
as the violation of general propriety. Always keep
your head erect and square to the front. It is good
manners, the evidence of good breeding. Otherwise
you become the laughing-stock of cultivated people.

2. Another asinine performance consists in coming
in and going out during service. jSTever go to church
if you cannot stay when you go. I have seen a young
man come in and go out two or three times during
the same service. He was perhaps looking for some-
body, or else he Avas without motive or aim in visiting
the house of God. In either event he shows a worth-
less object or an undecided character, and he makes
himself a nuisance to those who observe his conduct.
Such a man demonstrates that he Avould make a poor
Church-member and a failure in business. He can-
not " stick to his bush." Kegular or irregular church-
going, as shown in another lecture, is an indication
of character; and when you repeatedly go into church
and don't stick, it is the signal-pointer of an indifferent
man or woman. Go in and stick, and it will do you
good in yourself, and give others a good opinion of
your stability.

3. Another asinine performance consists in stand-
ing about the church doors, laughing and talking
aloud, smoking cigars or squirting tobacco-juice, or
peeping in upon the congregation to see who are there.
Such disturbance is a great annoyance to both preach-
er and people. Often in winter-time these disturbers
of God's house open the door a dozen times or more,
letting in tlie cold air upon the congregation. The
peeping ass outside is well-nigh as great a bore as the
talking ass inside.

4. \mong the worst of asinine performances is

CHURCH ASSES.

that of laugliing and talking- in the pews during serv-
ice. Sometimes it occurs between donkeys of the
same gender, ofteiier between donkeys of a different

sex; but wliosoever is guilty of it creates the most

serious disturbance to the minister and his congrega-
tion. The Indians and Hottentots are said to be very
respectful at church service. Jews and Catholics are
solemn and silent in their houses of worship. A
heathen would not think of desecrating the house of
his god. 1 have often preached to negroes, and I
never saw one misbehave. I have had an audience of
penitentiary convicts, oi" jail-birds — yea, of lewd
women and bad men in scvei-al places — and yet among
all these I never saw any thing but respectful atten-
tion to the preaching of the gospel. It is reserved
only for Protestants and their children — and in their
own churches, so far as my observation goes — to be
guilty of the crime of misbehavior in the house of
God, this high crime against religion. We should
always remember that at church other pef pie have
rights as well as we, and that we have no right to dis-
turb the ])rivilege8 nor trample upon the liberties of
other folks. It is a gross and outrageous insult to the
man who preaches to you, and a greater insult to God;
and a truly sensible and refined man, to say nothing
of a Christian, woidd never even indicate to a/ public
speaker that he was displeased or bored by showing
him indiflforonce or disrespect. lie would patiently
and resi)eetfully hear him through, if he never went
to hear him again. Such conduct as here described
is pusillanimously mean; it is basely and cowardly as-
inine.

5. Another donkey performance in God's house is
Bi)itting upon the floor, carpeted or not. (See the

!i|

ClIUKCII ASSES.

picture.) Tlie inuu is n long-eared ass who will do it.
Often the tobacco-chewer leaves a spot under his pew,
or in the aisle, as big as the map of .Musku, and then
great puddles of diluted nicotine are often left for la-
dies to drag their dresses through. It is sickening to
look at, much less to step in; and yet this long-eared
Ignoramus spewed it out thure, and looked upon it as
if it had been an ornamental salivarj performance.
He would not, perhaps, have recognized a spittoon, if
It had been set before him. What would you think
of a man in your parlor spitting all over your carpet'^
How much less is he to be thought of who would thus
profane the house of GodI Such a num knows noth-
ing of self-respect, much less of respect for others-
and he seems never to have had any conception of sa-
credness of place and respect for that.

6. Another barbarian practice is that of def-icing
hymn-books, pews, and church walls. Boys and girls,
young men and maidens— sometimes older people-^
are guilty of this asinine savagery. The Goths and
Vandals did better. A Modoc or a Crowfoot Indian
would not be gi ilty of such conduct. It is reserved
only for American asses to do thus, and such people
would chop your gate, cut your sofa, or gash your
piano, :f allowed to do so. Ijut for the law the prop-
erty of our country would be at the mercy of such
lawless vandalism.

7. Another asinine performance is pulling out your
watch and snapping it, throwing back you.- head, and
yawning in the face of the preaciier and his ai-dience
(See the picture.) Sometimes this perfor:nance is
done purposely, and nothing but a tough hide and
long ears can be guilty of it. Ko lady or gentleman
ever did it; and the ignoramus with common-sense po-

CHURCH AS^ES.

liteness would never treat the man in the jHilpit with
such gross incivility.

In conclusion, there are a great many things to which
I might further call your attention, but time fails me.
Sometii cs a donkey conies into God's liouse with his
hat on until he takes his seat, or he comes in without
cleaning his feet, or he will loll and roll upon his pew,
or he will sleep and snore, but often the preacher is
to blame for this latter vice — soporific asininity.
Sometimes a fellow will twist and screw on his seat
and make the preacher nervous and ii-ritable, but it is
also possib.3 that the preacher sometimes has the oppo-
site effect of sleep upon some auditors. Cultivated peo-
ple, however, avoid these incivilities. It is said that
a Frenchman of culture and refinement will listen to
a performance or the most insipid and ludicrous con-
versation with deepest attention and pleasiu-e, appar-
ently, lest he might otherwise offend or embarrass the
speaker or actor. Xo matter how you feel about a
l^lace, a person, or a performance, never display your
sense of displeasure, ridicule, or criticism at the time.
It is asinine to do so. I always try to show consid-
eration and respect, no matter what the character of
the audience I visit or the discourse I hear or the per-
formance I see. It is but politeness for me to behave
in other people's houses, however humble, obscure, or
low; and children and young people should above all
remember Avhen they are in God's house, and remem-
ber that when aAvay from liomo they represent their
parents and their rearing. Your conduct is the expo-
nent of your training. When you misbehave you rep-
resent your parents, and if you pro])erly represent
them by bad conduct, you tell a bad story of parentage
and of yourself as well. It is at least a matter of good

ClIUUCH ASSES.

tii;

policy to behave well in God's house wlicther you
feel like it or have been trained to it or not. I should
hate for the world to think badly of my mother and
lather, even if I had no respect for myself, ^ver
play the donkey nor ask the world to write you down
as an ass.

According to ^sop, in his fable of the old lion, tho
ass IS the " disgrace of nature." Surely no human be-
in- having: a high sense of honor and of self-respect
would covet the characterization of this sketch, and
yet It IS not unfrequently the case that no instruction
nor rebuke will correct the incorrigible leather-head
who misbehaves in the house of God. Sometimes he
becomes offended, and his asininity becomes all the
more apparent and prominent, and it is a remarkable
fact that nothing short of age and experience can
generally cure this asinine maladv. Like his proto-
type, beating often does him no good in this respect,
and It is a blessing that the weight and the wisdom
o years, at last, wear out and prune o^T this detesta-
^>le habit. Young people, let me congratulate you on
your good behavior, and let me beg you for the future
that you save yourselves from the character of that
beast which has been stigmatized as the "disgrace of
nature." '^

KlLLmG TIME-TIME KILLING YOU,

•tO^O*-

..o4o«-

HE picture presented on the opposite page is

^^^^ fv symbolic representation of a young man

'^ starting out to kill time. "The old man

of the scythe and the hour-glass " is bending
before his thrusts, dead to all the young man's
advantages and opportunities in life, as he re-
peatedly pierces him with the sword of pleasure, ease,
or indifference. Old Time holds up the glass in which
the young man's sands of existence are graduall}' run-
ning out; and the scythe, with which he is at last to
be cut down, swings upon the old man's shoulder.
The youth smiles comi)lacently as he })lies his sword,
and he indicates the thoughtless and careless indif-
f:i-ence of the young in Avasting time. The past, to
him, is too short to give the admonitions of experi-
ence; the ])resent suggests only gratification; and
"Procrastination, the, thief of time," flatters him with
the ever delusive promise of "time enough yet" in
the future. AV'ildly, fearlessly, recklessly, this youth-
ful devotee of pleasure thrusts his sword, ever follow-
ing old Time in the rear and piercing him in the back,
instead of taking him by the forelock. He is regard-
less o^ the fact that Time is bald apon the back of
the head; that behind him all opportunity and effort,
however good, ai'c lost. Thousands earnestly and
(50)

-l! ■

it?

I",;

KlLLTVfJ TIMK — THrK KILLIXCJ YOU,

agonizingly follow time without iutunding to kill liini;
but tiino is wortlilcss to him who docs not get ahead,
or at least keep n[) with liiu).

Thero is a tide in tho nifairs of men,
"Which, tukou at the Hood, h^ads on tt) fortune;
Omitted, all tho voyage of their life
Is bound in Bhallows and in miseries.

Following time is next to killing time; and in both
cases this is the life of inilli(jns, in v,hole or in part.
Tho consequences of such a life, hoAvever, I reserve
for brief treatment Avhen I come to reverse the i>icturo.

Let me say.that one of the greatest crimes of which
any man can lie guilty is the killing of time. It is
the most inexcusable and culi)able of all murders.
In all other murderous killing there is a motive or
cause, more or less ciiminal, in the perpetrator; but
here is a murder without any motive at all, a killing
for the lack <d" motive. Premeditated malice, the
sudden heat of passion, the involuntary taking of life
in the performance of some unlawful act — these are
the graded motives and causes which respectively
rei)resent murder, voluntaiy and involuntary, for which
the law holds a man responsible; but in the murder of
time the slayer kills in the gratification of pleasure
and in the absence of any motive that leads to good
or usefulness. He is like a little boy with a gun,
going about shooting your pigs and chickens for sport,
and, with total disi-cgard for life, fires into your house
and kills your child, all without intending to do any
harm. Again, the time-killer is like a suicide who
drinks arsenic or morphine, just for amusement, ab-
solutely reckless as to the consequences upon himself,
or others aff'ected by his conduct and life. He has no
malice, premeditated or otherwise; he is not actuated

KJLLINU TIME TIME KILLING YOU.

in his crime by any sudden lient of passion. He Is
a murderer irom the stand-point of eriminal careless-
ness, of g-ross neglect, of reckless disregard lor him-
self or others, all for his gratification and pleasure,
and without any ohjecti\e motive in the ci-ime he
commits. He is not intellectually insane, he is not
essentially depraved, or morally mad, except in the
light of his own destiny, lie docs not mean to do the
world or himself any 2>ositive harm. He is simply a
negative evil, devoid of motive for objective good,
and is sidjjcctively absorbed In, as well as objectively
devoted to, his own pleasui-e, at the expense of time,
and sometimes at the expense of other i)eople's pocket-
books and of other people's convenience. He is (jften
a parasite on society, feeding like a louse npon some
other nnin's head, and sucking like a leech some
other man's blood. The time-killer feels that time is
a bore if not killed, and he feels that the Avorld has no
pleasm-c if he cannot nse it in his vocation of throw-
ing away self in gratification, without gratitude or
return. lie feeds only on the bread of idleness, and
his idle brain is the devil's workshop for all the so-
cial ills we endure.

How precious is time! What vast importance the
Bible pnts npon it! and with what wonderful expres-
sion has genius characterized it! Shakespeare pro-
nounced it the "nurse and breeder of all good," and,
abused, he might have i)ronounced it the nurse and
breeder of all evil. Bishop Hall said: "The nse of
time in fate:' Good or bad, its nse w fate; and all
talent, energy, zeal, and emciency in life's noblest call-
ings are faihu'cs if time is not economically and wise-
ly ad juste. I to effort, or effort to time. Feltham as-
serted that time was the "chrysalis of eternity," and,

KILLIXfr TIMK — TIMK KILLING YOU.

in all outcome of existence employed, otenilty is the
beautiful llowcr, so to speak, evolved from the bulb-
ous root of time. The issues of eUruity are Avnipped
up in the womb of this transient existence, and Clod
alone can conceive of the vast imi)ortance which hangs
ui)on the decision of an lu)ur or the action of a moment.
God <^"ives us the ability and Time furnishes us 'he
occasions which, joined tog'ether, form the ten thou-
sand opportunities of life for the achievement of
good; and he who does not watch time and system-
atize life according to its hour-glass will find his
op])ortunities slipi>ing away under the "inaudible
and noiseless foot" of tl"' old man with the glass
and the scythe.

Time -will teach lliee soon the tnith,
There are no birds in last year's nest.

So said Longfellow to all who put off till to-morroAV
what oiight to be done to-day. "Time should be
counied by heart-throbs," says Martineau, and this
splendid sentiment teaches that every moment of ex-
istence is some precious casket in which may be found
the jewel of some advance or advantage in life.
Only those, however, who value life can value time;
for life and time form an equation in which they are
connected by parallel lines, indicating a like impor-
tance and their absolute necessity to each other. Young
never uttered a grander sentiment, a grander fact,
than when he said: " Time wasted is existence; used,
it is life." The time-killer simply ekes out an ex-
isti'uce, the time-employer lives out his life; and he
finds "time enough," in the language of Goethe, "if
well employed." One of the strangest things al)ont
the time-killer is that he finds always more time than
he wants when dissatisfied, and too little time when

KTLUNU TIMK— Tr\fR KII.Lrvo YOU.

his pleasure is bein- inclulgccl. The cnlv imin avIio
rcnlly has time enough in the man who lakx'H it as
God 8 gift, and then cMuploy.s it well. Then lie neitlier
regrets the past nor ch-eads the future, and the pres-
ent to hun is un evei-dwelling hour ol' cnii.h.yinent
and peace. *^

The liible most 8f riklngly touclies tliis .subject. Sol-
omon Hays: "To ovei ^ thing there is a season, and a
time to every purpose under heaven." This indicates
the proper ad justnu nt of time to all the varied alVairs
of life, and it also indicates the division of time to the
serious and the pleasant occupations which separately
or reciprocally characterize our lives here below.
CTod has given us day and night, Sabbath and week-
day, winter and summer, spring-time and autumn,
hours of rest and labor, the varieties of season and
change, in order to diversify and beautily and make
useful and happy our existence. He forbids overwork
as well as idleness, and he has so adjusted time to all
our conditions, however diverse or opposite, as to make
hie harmonious and sweet out of even its bitter toils
and Its perpetual pains. After all, there are more
days ot sunshine than of cloud, and life is so adjusted
to time that there is a greater compensation to every
loss, a bno-iiter smile for every tear, a sweeter thrill'
tor every woe, to him who adapts himself to his cir-
cumstances, utilizes all his talents, and economizes
his tune according to its adjustment and division i.- a
harmonious and well-employed existence. David rec-
ognized that his times were all in God's hands, and
Avhile he recognized God's limitations set upon his
time, he acknowledged God's adjustment and division
of time to his conditions. Like every other o-ift we
should recognize our time from God. Hence Paul

KILLIXU TIMK— TIMK KILLING YOU.

warns lis tliat the '^tiiiio is short," that *'tlio iii-lit is
at hand whvn no man can work." Spcaiving- to tho
Ephcsians, he tulis tliein to walk circnnisijcctly, not
as fools, bnt as wiso, " mleeniin*,^ tho tiiuo" — ntiliz-
ing it, not throwin^^ it away, as I'ools are wont to do.
In the Banie line Solomon nrgos: " AVliatsocver thy
hand findcth to do, do it witli thy might; for tlicre is
no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in
the grave, whither tlion goest." Time is so short and
preeions, tlie interests of eternity so momentous, that
we must be in a linriy to fulfill the destiny ordained
of time. AVIuit wo leave undone at the grave Avill
nevei- l)o diae by ns nor by others, for every man can
alone do vlrtt is a 'ottcd for hhn to do.

Lifo li roul, life is eaniost,
A .i(i the grave is not its goal;

"Dust thou art, to dust roturnest,"
"Was not wrilU'ii of the soul.

How marvelous that a Christian should kill timol
IIow dare one of God's children to waste his daysl
How many of them idle away their years in pleasure —
in the dance-hall, the theater, at the card-table, at the
watering-i)lace, in travel, "in the pursuit of worldly
pleasure or profit — when God is robbed of their time,
talent, and energy 1 The Christian has no time to
lose for his own soul's good, no moments to throw
away in seeking the salvation of a perishing world,
dying every hour by thousands, and perishing "for
lack of knowledge." As fan I says to us all, "It is
high time to awake out of sleci, ' We should ever re-
member that the time of Christ is at hand. His sec-
ond coming is ever imminent, and the time of our de-
parture is drawing near. There is a day coming when
the great angel shall ])ut one foot on land and the

KILLIXa TIME — TIME KILLIXG YOU.

hk\

other on tlic sea, and proclaim that time shall be no
more forever.

Lft us then be xip and doing,

With a heart for r,ny fate;
Still achieving, still ])nrsxiing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

How fearful to behold tlie millions of time-servers
and time-killers! They ieed on Avind and float in the
atmosphere like fer.thers. Their lives are phantoms,
and their hope is ashes. Flittino- through the gay and
giddy cii-cles of fashion and v/orldliness, the}* fill up
the measure of the butterfly's day, and they drop out
of life and notice as the transient morning-glory that
blooms at dawn and dies at noon. U])on the averao-e,
the time-killer never lives long. lie does not fill out
half his days. The law of life is labor, and labor, aft-
er all, conquers all things and prolongs our average
existence upon the ])rincii)le that in the economy and
wise adjustment of time lie the laws of health, longev-
ity, and happiness. Some men shorten their days by
labor, Avhich is also a sin; but the time-killer, as the
rule goes, gets soonest cut down. He dies of inertia,
if not of dissipation and disease. lie to whom time
IS a bore will Avaste away unobserved as the transient
dream of his useless life. But this brings us to the
consideration of the second part of this sketch:
Time Killixo You.

-•O^o.

1 1 . ••O^O"

^ "I have Avasted time," says ShakesiJcare, "and noAV
time doth waste me." Is the old saying goes,
"Chickens come home to roost;" and the poet just

KILLtXG TIME — TIMK KFLLHTG YOL.

quoted says again: "The whirligig of time brings in
his revenges." How often the p or devotee to pleas-
ure has had to exclaim in the Avords of Spenser:

Too late I staid — forgive the crime—

Unlieeded flew the hours;
How noiseless falls the foot oH time,

Thot only treads oi> flowers.

Let me briefly sum up the ways in which time may
Waste or kill ns, especially be revenged on those who
kill him, and close:

1. He cuts ofl:' our opportunities. "We may sleep
and dream, frolic and dissipate, but he is SAveeping
away from us upon his winged wheels forever.

2. He withers our hopes and blights our prospects.
A lost opportunity has awakened the e:cclamation ten
thousand times, "O for an hour I"

"What would the dying sinner give
For one more Sabbath-day to live?

3. Time Avasted dries up all the fountains of life
and happiness. , Hoav dissatisfied is the time-killer!
and when he groAVS old hoAV Avithered and blasted are
all his aflfections, aspirations, and faculties for the
business and enjoyment of life 1

4. "Wasted time is the destroyer of fame, fortune,
and honor Avhich "might haA^e been;" and "I might
have been" is the toi-turing reflection, the bitterest
regret of the time-killer, Avhon all the golden d" > s and
opportunities of this short life have fled.

5. Time throAvn aAV.'n. robs the very treasuries of
heaven on the part of the ruined sinner or the idle
Christian. Hoav often a Felix procrastinates to all
eternity the salvation of his fsoul! and hoAV often the
indifterent and inert foUoAver of Jesus loses millioua

()2

KILLIXa TIMK — TIMK KILLING YOU.

of treasure and i-ewarcl by putting off his splendid
chances for doing- good!

6. Blighted time fodes beauty and wrinkles our
front with furrows untraced by the loveliness of well-
spent and happy years. Old age which follows a pure
and useful life is like a Coi-inthian pillar which,
though crumbling and mutilated by time, is still rich
with the traceries of beauty's chisel and grand in its
dilapidation.

7. Old Time comes along at last in the form of the
grira reaper, Deadi, sets down his hour-glass, through
which our sands of existence have run to the last
grain, and with his scythe he cuts us down. This
happens to us all, but he cuts off the lost and idled
life of the sinner forever. Alas! he cuts him in twain,
to be mended no more for good, even in the resurrec-
tion of the body. Alas, poor time-destroyerl to be
at last destroyed! Truly has AYilcox said that " time
unemploypd is the greatest foe; " and well does Shake-
speare denominate time as " the old justice that ex-
amines all offenses." Parsons said of this ''old jus-
tice" that he was "the only righteous judge;" and
the waster, the killer of time may rest assured that
he will be arraigned at last before his bar. " They
that drive time away," said another writer, " spur a
free horse;" but they who ride that horse for naught,
let n. . say, never paid so dear for their livery.

iVJ

!r>.>i|$i!t<'

i? A

^/'i»^im-

ROGK OF AGES;

01!,

INFIDELITY AND OVERZEAL.

•^►♦C-.

jllE illustration presents Christ under the form
;^ of the Kock of Ages. It is the Rephidim
of Moses in the desert, smitten with his
i-od, gushing- with u stream of water to fam-
ishing Israel. Paul, alluding to this celebrat-
ed bowlder, says, "That Hock was Christ;"
and he calls it that '' spiritual Kock that folloAved
them," and of which they '' drank." A more perfect
figure of Christ's immuti.ble character, of his life-
giving and cleansing efllcacy, of his overshadowino-
and comforting grace, of his offensive and defensive
impregnability, of his fundamental and constructive
power, cf his saving and sanctifying energy, could
not be employed. He is our "nmnitions of rocks "
our Fortress and Kefuge; "the Kock that is ki-her

uT 1^'Vl'' "^'"'^ ^^''''^' ''' '' ^^'^'"T land; ""the
Kock of Ages cleft for me," and out of whose smit-
ten side flowed the fountain of blood and water, in
which to be washed, anu which to drink, is life and
cleansing eternal. He is the lofty Petra upon which
1^ erected the acropolis, the citadel of his Church, the
constructive foundation laid upon him being the

(65?

ItOCK OF AGES.

prophets and apostles, of which still he is the chief
corner-stone, precious and elect, and against Avhich the
gates of hell shall not prevail. Peter may be a stone,
a fragmentary 2>ciroii, along with all the other pro-
phetic and apostolic stones, forming the constructive
foundation of the Churches; but Christ, the Eock of
Ages, is the great sub-basal and divine foundation
upon which the Avhole building, constrm-tivc foinulu-
tion and all, fitly framed together, is built. From
him, as constructive corner-stone, come the beauty,
strength, Jind unity of the structure; and from him,
as the great fundamental Petra, come the vitality,- sta-
bility, and energy of " God's building." In the two
great senses of the figure the poets ^ing :

On Christ, tlio solid Hock, I Btnnd;
All other ground is sinking sand.

And again:

Eock of Ages, cleft for mo,

Let me hide myself in thee.
Let us now notice some of the attendant details of
the picture. On one side of the Eock you see a man
trying to turn the Rock over with a lever. This man
represents Infidelity bearing down with all his weight
and might upon a broken stick, beneath whom is the
yawning pit and Satan Avith outstretched hand to re-
ceive him as he falls. Back of him, and in the dis-
tance, is an infidel club-house; and between him and
the club-house is an infidel battery, representing the
artillery of the ages pounding away at the great and
immovable Eock. The guns are manned by the In-
gersolls, the Tom Paines, the Humes, and Rousseaus,
and Renans, and Strausscs, and Voltaires; while tlie
Spencers, the lluxleys, the Darwins, the John Stuart
Mills, and others, head the crowd which shouts on the

ItOC'K OF AGES.

supposed work of demolition to tlio niiglity Fortress
of our salvation. Tlio proportion is partly displayed
in the size of the Koclc as compared with the insig-
nificant battery and the diminutive leaders who arc
assaulting it with their popgnns, or trying to tnrn it
over with a broken pipe-stem as it were. It is as ii' a
regiment of prairie-dogs were a^ssailing Gibraltar, (.r
a flea trying to undermine l»ike'« Peak; and from this
comparison we can get at the precise idea of the dif-
ference between the force of the Kock and the forces
which oppose it. The thunders and lightnings of the
centuries have played in harmless fmxabout the sum-
mit of Mont Blanc, and so infidelity fights against
Christ. Tliere are not forces enough in natui-e coin-
bined, unless supernatnrally cn.ploycd,to knock down
the peak of Chimbora/o; and all the i)owers of eartli
and hell united caiuiot chip a fragment from the Itock
of Ages. As in nature so in grace. The storms have
raged for centuries of untold commotion and opposi-
tion; but the hills and mountains renuiin M'ih un-
shaken top and inunutable base. The clouds and tem-
pests come and go, but there thev stand as befcr-
and so Christ, the eternal iJock, comes out brighter,
grander, and loftier from every conflict with error and
falsehood. Prize on, little infidel; your little stick
will break and drop you finally into the arms of your
father and into the bottomless pit, from which you
shall never escape. Shoot on, little popgun battery;
your httle artillery will exhaust your annnunition iu
vain; your guns will be hushed and spiked, and the
only torce they will ever have will be to kick u.^i,]-
ity backward into hell, where it belongs. Wiio ever
fought God and prospered?

On the other side of the Kock, and sheltered in its

h<k;k <»b' \<;ks.

rear, irt llio Clmi'i-li mid \\\v peopli! of (}<)<1. ( Iirisl,
Htiiiuls l)utV)ro llu'iu in llio proiiviTHslvo nntl ii'HistU-HH
and iiiimiifablo nian-l- id'Tnilh ((IitiimI, iiutl tlm Ikmihc,
of (J()(l fiMi lu'vi • jiill iv'>' ;.nl ill ITiM overslindoHiiijLi;
powtM-. Yon \\\\\ notici!, iiowcviT, on Uiis nldo oI'iIh'

U,o(dv, inislnn,:4-\vith all his \vi'iy:lit, and jni,:;lit, a lidlc
])rcMic'lK'r, a\1m> repiVHi'iilM ovcr/.cal. lie is Irving- to
ki'op iiilididily I'rOTn tiiniiiin- lliu Hock of A^ics over,
or to kii'i)tlu> Jiilidcl hallii'ii'HC'-nM' ' kiii^^ it down.
Jlo liMs a /A>;il in this diri'ction >vitht>nt knowh'd^i

8*>

and 111' vcpiTsonts a rlass of priachors and otiuM' peo-
])h' pii'siimptnotisly di'lrndiii^- Christianity n^aiiist
evei\Y attack which comes alon^jf, always aliiniicd lor
its Htnhility and i)ro<,n'css, over •j^'oomy al)oiit the I'lit-
iir'M)ntconicol' rc[ii;ion. lie is pi ■-cinincntly a pes-
simist. Hence ho is always ])reaihin.^- c»r writ in;;
abont. intidelity instead ol" preachin.^- tlu' ^^ospel. llo
wars with niiyht and main to shoAV that 'n^^ersoll is
mistaken about the mistakes of Moses, and he is per-
])etnally tryin;«' to overtnrn Spencer's "First J'rinci-

t of Man." Ho lias the

lies

Darw

in s

])e

seen

l;'i

avest appi ehensions

that tli<' Hock of Ay-OS ■wi

11 bo

tnrned over or bo battered down, cspocially if ho does
not hold it np; ami he feels that ho is called and or-
dained for tho net dofenso of the gospel against the
■world. In most cases he ad\ertises inlidelity instead
of rendering anv etllelent defe so of the truth, and
often ho ])nts ta -led ! ains t' thinking more favor-
ably of Ingorsoll and Tom Paine than before. In
fact, the simple and rowerfnl assertion of tho gospel
is its best defense in the main; a.ul its exoiK|diiication
or illnstration in Christian life and cliaractor 1=- its
most unanswerable arginnent. Id tho light shine;
let the Sun of righteousui beam out in full-orbed

KOCK OK AOKH.

0!)

^lorv, 1111(1 I lie iiioK^H and IhiIh of inlidclity will liiu
away into the (•oii/^i'nijil iitiiioHjilu^ro ol' tlu'ir inidnig'lit
Iiubilalioii and aHHocialion. Prtsach Iho word and
in\'i('li('(i llui lilrand wear I'n! ciianK'tcr (d" ( 'iirihl, and
llicrc will 1)1! hut. lillhi or o(;(;aHi()nal nci'd for airin;.^
inlidtillty. lict tins himi Hliinc, and tlic ])lnnlH and
llovvtirn of ('liristianit y will ,s|>rin«^ up and bloom and
f^row and (Viictualu in h\)\\x'. of all tlio cloudH and
wtoniis* of inlidclily and atlidiHiii.

liy all tliiH it, is not meant that no didi'iiHi; is ever
to ]n' iiiaiUi aji^aiiiHt inlidelity. 'i'liitri! aro times when
heavy blows may bo struek, and there aro writxirs and
orators who are H[)e<'ially gilYed in ol!cn80 and defbiiso
a<j:ainHt all forms of error and Hliepticism. Thero aro
some "set,' as it were, i'or these things, who can con-
tend not only earnestly, but HUilUnlly, for tin; I'aith
*' delivered oiicii (or all to the saints." ^Nevertheh'ss,
no one preac^her can all'ord to be always hammering
iiway upon any one snbject bel'oro bis congregation,
even infidelity; and a man makes a great mistako
wluMi he h'avesthe impression that he is ever forebod-
ing the iailnre of the cause, from any given stand-
point, it' he does not defend it. When necessary, Ood
has always raised up leaders for special and revolu-
tionary purposes; but such leaders have ever been
like Moses — modest and shrinking before their re-
eponsibilitii s. 'J'liey trusted God and were guided
by his counsel; and of all the men who tivcr felt their
humble insufficiency they were the men. fhey never,
liever dreamed that the Rock would turn over if it
were not (or them; and they never foi in dated creeds
lior organized institutions for scl ^is ;md ambitious
J)ni']K)8es, claiming themselves to be the greater part
of the work they set on foot or accomplished. There

aro two kinds of Iciulcrship nut of God: 1. Those
who funatically inmgino God could not get along
without them. 2. Tliose who wrap themselves ui) in
a bundle of peculiarities in the name of Jcsuh, and
Bet out to build for themselves. The true leader,
raised up of God, is least when ho is greatest; and
when he would n e, ho becomes the servant of all.
Ho is, like Paul, the servant of Christ and the serv-
ant of his brethren for Christ's sake.

So mucli for the little fellows on both sides, both
of whom inuigine themselves of greatest importance
as for and against the Kock. Thank God, the Kock
will stand, whosoever presumptuously opposes or de-
fends it; and it will stand, Avhether it have any de-
fense or not, against all the opposition of this world!

"How shall one chase a thousand, and two put ten
thousand to flight, except thci r Kock had sold them, and
the Lord had shut them up? For their rock is not as
our Rock, even our enemies themselves being judges."
"Tliero is none holy as the Lord: for there is none
beside thee: neither is there any rock like our Ciod."
He is the " liock of our salvation" and of our "de-
fense;" and Avhile we do stand up to our Rock in of-
fense and defense, yet we need more the protection of
our Rock than the Rock meds of us. In our defense
of this Rock we should feel that wo are sheltered in
it as our strong tower and fortress, and we should re-
alize that our defense results from the very protection
by which we are sheltered from the darts of the en-
emy. "We " stand up for Jesus " by standing in with
Jesus; and when wo imagine that we are standing up
for him, independent of his defense, we are about as
insignificant as the little fellow on the other side of
the Rock trying to turn it over. It is hard to tell

ROCK OF AOEfl.

■wliifli iw the bigger fool — lugersoll, with his little lever
of infidelity, on one side trying tf) turn it over, or the
overzeulous and preBunii)tuoiiH little preaeher on tho
other trying to hold it up.

Finally, our enemies nhould reniend)er that this lioi-k
of onrs is a Kock of olfeiiHe. Jesus tells us that who-
soever stumbles or falls ui)on this Jtock shall bo
broken to pieces; and upon whomsoever this Itock
shall fall he shall be ground into powder. Terrible
and awful (•utastro[)he to a lost and ruined soul! Tho
wicked shall call in that great and notable day upon
the rocks of the hills and mountains to fall upon them
and hide them from the face of an avenging God.
These rocks will not answer to the call, and even if
they did, they could not hide the sinner from God'a
all-burning eye. There is a Kock, however, that will
fall upon them, not to hide them, but to crush them,
already broken, to infinitesimal dust in the misery of
everlasting perdition. "NVe have seen people crushed
in this life. We have seen melancholy and woe settle
down upcm the unfortunate, the discouraged, and tho
hopeless; but we can have no conception of tho crush-
ing wretchedness and despair of an eternal and un-
mitigated hell — such a hell as tho ISTew Testament de-
scribes in the very language of Jesus. Deliver me
from " the Avrath of the Ijamb! " There is something
infinitely awful in that ex])rc'ssi(m. Xothing is so fu-
rious as human love injured and abused; and nothing
can be so fatal and damning as divine love and mercy
trampled on through life and finally and forever
spurned by the impenitent and inibelieving sinner.
Think of God's last overture rejected, his last loving
appeal scorned, his last cry of mercy unheeded! Then
comes the wrath of the Lamb. Then comes the crush-

1?()CK OF AGES.

1^1

ing fall of that mighty Kock which will gviml to pow-
der every enemy of the cross. Alas I the awful doom
which brings the lost soul under the final crash and
crush of this liock of Ages!

To doatli — an endlesn h(>ll — the soul is sent,

And tills is called "eternal punishment! "

We need not rack these awful words, 'tis said,

Nor make tnem shriek out tierce tlieir import dread;

At best, the liell of best and noblest man

Is Gcd's unmixed, eternal, hopeless ban.

Forever? Yes, forever writes its name

On every tongue that tastes the quenchless flame,

On every link of darkness' binding chain,

On every sigh of woe and cry of pain.

On every memory's past reflection sad,

On every hope of future — hopeless mad.

On every leap of downward flight inclined,

And every bent of evil heart and mind.

O God! this doom let men forego and li\c;

Why will tliey die, when thou wouldst hearen give?

Amazing grace! the gift of life above!

Amazing madness! man rejects thy love,

To reap through sinful pleasures stung with pains

Eternal woe engulfed in endless flames!

Awake thy Church ! that sleeps o'er men insane.

The torch relume of Truth o'er hill and i)lain;

O save us, God! by hope of life eternal,

Nor let us reach this doom of death infernal.

SLANDER.

►>+<♦-

f.ili'] Hliiiulercr is well rcj)resc'nt.e(l as a Horpont
-•^^ witlj a cliai-actorislic human head, coiled
"^'^ \n Ihe yrass, Htrikin;:^- wit li an an'<)\v-ti[)[)eil

l()ii,'5iie into llie lylccdiiig- lieai-t oi' its victim,
sliould have given it tlie wings of a Ijat, sinco
slander flies as well as crawls, but I overlooked
this feature of my original design. I'ho serpent with
his venom and his ii-e, with his slimy, slippery folds
and his noiseless crawl, with his deadly coil and fatal
fang, is the only fit cndjlem of the man or the woman
Avho Htahs and kills you in character. Jealousy and
envy, prejudice and malignity are the sac of ])oison
under the slanderer's tongue, from which ho feeds hia
de ully fangs and which pierce your good name. Love
and honor never engage in this vile business; but tho
slande.-er is a total stranger to these noble instincts
of the himan breast. He hates his superior, or else,
without ni'dice or revenge, he has a reckless disregard
for truth and honest re])ut!'tion, for every thing lofty
and good about him. The neighborhood gossip has
nothing better *o do than to gratily an overweening
desire to talk about his or her neighbor, and such peo-
ple seem to find a ^endish delight in their base voca-
tion. A bit of scavdal is a sugar-plum which they
roll in their mouth a. \d divide with each other j and

I*.

ii i;

-4

SLAXDER.

ih.

the plum grows as it roUi; from mouth to mouth, like
the five loaves and two little fishes with which the
Master fed five thousand hungry souls and had twelve
baskets full of the fragments which remained. 1: uly
does the great poet style it, by way of personification :

Slander,

Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whoso tongue

Outvenonis all the worms of Nile.

It is impossible, with an ordinary sense of the hu-
mane, to comprehend or appreciate the nature and
character of the slanderer. AYe can see how men in
the heat of passion can slay their fellows, how hun-
■ ger and penury can steal, how the wreck of habit can
debauch himself; but there are souls too lofty, hearts
too pure, to understand how this monster of all iniq-
uity can ruin the reputation or destroy the character
of an innocent being. How ir finitely worse than
theft or murder or arson I Inimitably has Shakespeare
made Othello to say :

Good name, in man or woman, dear, my lord,

Is the immediate -Jewel of their souls.

Who steals my purse steals trash, 'tis something, nothing;

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he that filches me of my good name

Bobs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes mo i)oor indeed.

The victim of slander often suffers more than theft
or murder, as, Avith a cor.sciousness of innocence, he
endures a life-time of shame and contumely without
the power of rectification or defense. I o: "e knew a
minister slandered, and though his slanderer upon a
dying bed confessed his crime, yet this man of God
had to quit the pulpit and live and die under a cloud.
Confidence once lost under a charge of great turpi-
tude caii never be entirely restored; and though one

SLAXDKH.

i i

indicated, yet the sense of character lost is
so keen and delicate tha';, many will sxispicion still
the victim of slander, once blackened, in spite of vin-
dication. It is hard to get the smell of burned clothes
off, and people will associate you, justly or unjustly,
with your reputation long after the stain has been ob-
literated from your character. You may kill the sting
of the serpent that Avounded you; you may heal the
wound, but some peojile will always be examining the
scar. It takes great force of character, irrepressible
energy and ability, with popularity, to stand or over-
come a serious slander, and but few ever override pop-
ular odium and disfavor thus created. Our friends
may hold us innocent and stand by us, but the world
will think of the dove as soiled and the lamb as
spotted. Our enemies especially will keep the skele-
ton of a dead slander upon our track, and but few of
them are generous enough to grant, much less vindi-
cate, our innocence.

There is but little protection against slander, and
usually the slanderer is an assassin and a coward,
made so by his immunity from legal restraint. He
generally has some worthless character in front of
him in order to evade both legal and pervsonal ac-
countability, and often the newspajjcr becomes the
most dangerous mediuhi of his calumny. Such is the
eager love of scandal, so innumei-able, doubtful, and
irresponsible are its sources among the masses, that it
is almost next to impossible to win a suit for dam-
ages or to criminally prosecute the slanderer. A slan-
der is of all things the hardest to prove in court or to
punish when proved, and consequently the shot-gun
and th-^ .evolver are often resorted to among men
as the only remedy. Murder and slander, even when

SLANDKl

gross and liorriblo, now bltcn go luipunished. Your
life and character are least protected, especially
aguiniit money and iufiuenct. A wealthy criminal
cannot he punished in this country for any crime ex-
ccpt theft or embe/:dement. 'No position or influ-
ence can trample on the pocket nerve. Take my life
or my good name, but don't touch my money! The
world will penitentiary you sure, and it would often
take your life if it coukl. Hence, so much unpun-
ished murder and slander result in mob law and per-
sonal violence in this couninj. It would seem that a
high state of civilization Avould protect, first of all,
life and cliaracter; but money and self-intca-est are as
yet the chief objects of protection. In fact, at this
time this is about the only thing among us involving
American ^^ i)rotectim.'" Money and self are our house-
hold gods, and the love of these is the root of all our
evils. Our character and our religion, the Sabbath
and the Bible in the public scliools, once the pride
and glory of our country, are all dominated by our
selfish interests andpleasiu-es, and subordinated to the
" nuimmon of unrighteousness." It is no wonder that
life and character have no chance against the influ-
ence of money and business.

It is interesting to note the baseness of spirit and
method which characterizes the cowardly assassin
who stabs your character. "What a passion some have
for slander I How multiform and subtle are the ways
and means employed! What a portraiture Hannah
More has painted of the villain and his art!

The hint malevolent, the look oblique.
The obvioiis satire, or implied dislike,
Tlie sneer equivocal, the harsh reply.
And all the cruel language of the eye;

sr.AXDKlt.

ri)

Tlio nrtt'ul injury, whoso vonoinod dart
Scfircc wounds tlu^ liciiriug «-liilt' it stalw tho heart;
Tlio gUHrdcd phra«o yAiotm uieaniny- kills, jot iold
Tho iiwt'nor wonders how you thought it cold;
'riies(s and a thousand griefs niinnto as these,
Corrodo our eoiuf'ort and destroy our ease.

Aiiu)i)<j;- the Dicancst of .slandci-er.s oCtcn is the man
Avho slini.<j;s Ills wlioulders, Aviiiks lils eye, cuts with a
siDistcr Hiullt', stubs Avith a glaiico, and deals in « buts "
and "il's;" and there arc scores of slanders daily per-
petrated which you cannot answer by logic, iin])each
by evidence, nor touch by biw_vile, cowardly, and
pusillanimous. In the same strain of Hannah :Nroro
Pope thus portrays this ravenous passion lV)r devour-
ing- character:

The world with oahimny ahoi.inds,

The Avhitest virtue slandc-r M-ounds;

There nro those whose Joy is, night and day.

To take a character nway;

Eager from rout to rout they haste,

To blast the generous and tlio chast(>;

And hunting rejiutation down,

Proclaim their triumph through tiio town.

This:s the spirit and these the methods of tlic moral
assassin engage L in the vilest business of mankind,
and we are often astoiushed at the gi-eat and i-espect-
able iHM.ple engaged in it. There are even some
preachers who gossip and seandali/e and slander, and
sometimes whole < "luuvhes are rent asunder by the
tongue, the unruly member of which James so potent-
ly wai-ns (rovl's ])eople. Slander is an evil genius, a
cunning fiend which stalks its prey at noonday and
springs ui)on its victims at midnight. Perhaps the
finest characterization of the slanderer ever drawn
was |>enued by Pollok:
6

SLANDEIt.

'Twus slander filled lier mouth with lying words;

Slander, the foulest whelp of sin: the nuin

In whom this spirit enteri>d was undone.

His tongue was set on tiro of hell; his heart

Was black as death; his legs were faint with haste

To i)ropagato tho lie his soul had framed;

His pillow was the peace of families

Destroyed, the sigh of innocence reproached,

Broki'u friendship, and the strife of l)rotherhoods;

Yet did he spare his sleep, and hear the clock

Number tho midnight watches, on his bed

Devising mischief more; and early rose,

And made hellish meals of good men's names.

From door to doav you might have seen him speed.

Or placed amidst a group of gaping fools.

And whispering in their ears with foul lips.

Peace fled the neighborhood in which he made

His haunts; and, like a moral pestilence,

Beforo his breath tho healthy shoots and blooms

Of social joy and happin.ess decayed.
. Fools only in his company were seen,

And those forsaken of God, and to themselves

Given up; the ])rudent shunned hin\ and his house.

As one who had a deadly, moral plague.

And fain would all have shunned him at the day

Of judgment; but in vain. All who gave ear

With greediness, or willingly their tongues

Made herald to his lies, around him waited;

While on his face, thrown back by injured man,

In characters of ever blushing shame
xVppeared ten thousand slanders all hi:: own.
Such the spirit and such the doom of the Hlaiiderer
at the judgment of God. Deep down in hottest liell,
where dwells tlie foulest devil, will be the eternal
abode of the serpent-ton.i^ued slanderer.

The treatment of slander is an important consider-
ation. The slandered man occupies a difficult posi-
tion, lie needs most of all the grace of patience and
forbearance, of fortitude and ])ravery. It is nnfort-

'iMj

SL.WDKI!.

uru.te that most slanders have souk- founclation i„
lac-t. J- , of ll)oin are cut out of wli..le elotli. Some
inii,ru(lenee, inadvertence, or mistake <,u our part
gives the enemy a club to hit ns with— a sample out
of whicli to cut a coat to fit ns with. Ofit-n the beau-
lil'id and cliaste, but imi)rudent, young hulv tlius o-ets
into troul)le; and so of the unskillful and^uno-uai^led
niiiiister, where no wrong was dreamed of. JJut tJie
great question is: How shall I treat scandal and slan-
der:' .^ever be in too biga hurry,and never i.av any
attention nnless dignity and dnty denumd vindication :
and when vindicathm is imi,ossible, wait on God.
A ever 1)rush off ii-esli mnd from your clothes. Let it
dry. Slander will run its conrse after awhile, and
tiunio-h we may never be pronounced innocent by all
yet character untainted will shine a-ain like the sun
through the clouds, even if the sky never l>ecomes al-
too-ethcr clear. Socrates said: "Slanders do not hurt
mo, becansc they do not hit me; " but we do not all
have the rugged monntain grandeur of Socrates.
Slanders do hit and lun-t some innocent people, some-
times rend families, Chnrches, and neighborhoods,
JeaAing for awhile the desolation of the cyclone in
tlicir track; and often it takes manhood and Chris-
tianity to leave aside the revolver and the tardy law
and wait nntil the storm jKisses over. Of conrse there
are a multitude of little things Avhich none may notice
lor noticing them wonld only magnify and give im-
portance where importance did not exist. Beech-
erwell said: "Life wonld be a])erpetual flea-hnnt if a
man had to run down all the innuendoes, inveracities,
insiniiations. and suspicions which are nttered against
hini." " The snrest method against scandal," says a
writer, "is to live it down 1 y perseverance in well-

M.M

SLANDKH.

doing, ami fj// i>rmjer io God that lie will cure tlic dis-
teini)t'iv(l iniiul u'" tliose wlio tradiu'c and injure i.-*."
After all, God and time and well-doinjj: are tlie Ix-st
remedy lor blander, i^o far as it nuiy ever be cured.
Do good for evil, blesy for cursing, forgive and for-
l)^..,i-^lliis is the cure of Jesus, and this is the most
unfailing of all the remed'os a mortal ever yet applied
to enmity. After all, slander, like other ills, is one of
the Christian's crosses, and, well borne, it inures above
all atllietions to the ])urest chastening and develo-p-
nient of Christian life. Xo cross ever won a brighter
crown, if borne well for Jesus' sake. It is comfort
to know that the birds pick at the best and higliest
fruit which grows upon the tree. The greatest and
best people in the world are slandere<l; and only the
good and the useful can be. Of course there is a
negative, good-for-nothing good of which none speak
evil. To such Jesus si)akc when he saUl, " \\ oe unto
you when an. .)< a speak well of you."

Slander h.%^ nnother good office : it nudces the true

I'S

man examiua biuiself to see whether or not the thing
said of him hv. so. I think it was riiilip of Macedon
who said tbat he never grew angry at slanders or .scan-
dals; for if thev were true, lie tried to improve his lifo
above them ; if false, he would ultimately shine all the
brio-hter bv them. This is often true of the great,
not'nlways true of the little; but, as a rule, it is true
that the result of an exploded slander, or a slander
lived down, is to purity and brighten the character of
the slandered, though he may never regain his lost
reputation or position in the eyes of everybody. 1 up-
per here gives us good advice:

If a liar accusetli thee of evil, be not swift to answer;
Yougive him license forawhileiitslmll be tliinehonorafterward.

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WEBSTER, NY. 14580

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S" M?,r

i/.x

KINDNESS AND CRUELTY.

->*<H

^?te ^'''^ ^^^'" illustrations before iis we sec kind-
S^kS "^^^ ""^^ cruelty contrasted as the two
fi ^' ^'^^ forces by whicli men seek to rule the
P'^^ world. In the first pictiu-e behold a little
g-irl with her bright, beaniino- fhee radiant with
smiles, her little hands i)layino- upon the head
of a lion, which seems grateful and docile under the
magic touch of kindness. Her little foot is upon the
head of a hissing serpent; near by stands the lamb,
which is the syndml of innocence and purity, while
above her head the dove, which is the symbol' of love
and gentleness, poises with the olive-branch of peace
in its mouth. The fierce and ravenous lion is brought
into contact with every element and principle of kind-
ness, which i)ersuades, insinuates, and conquers by
love instead of compulsion and brutality. Xothing
but love can tread upon the serpent, and nothing but
love can develop that period in the onfcome of our
Christianity when the lamb and the ]io!« shall lie down
together, and a little child shall lead them. I saw a
picture not long since in which a woman had a school
of attentive and listening tigers, and though symbolic
of the great truth of kindness and education as con-
querors over our jjassious and ai>petites, yet it is a
concrete fact that education and kindness have made

(85)

Iff

if'

'11

KINDNESS AND dtUKLTY

tlie lion and the tig-er i)lay like kittens about the I'eet
of their trainers. I once read ol' a woman who kept
two lions altoiit her house — her hack ])rc'inises — as doc-
ile and irolieksonie as sjianiels; and it was not until
the law eoiiipelled her that she eontined lier young'
pets in a ea,i>e. There are many ins<"anoes in history
of the docility and love of the lion trained up at the
hands of kind and loving nnisters.

See in the second ])ictnre of our illustration exact-
ly the opi)osite method of ruling the animal world,
'^riiere's a big num beating a little nude with a cudgel,
and observe that the nude rebels and demonstrates
his op])osition to force by the flight of his heels in the
air. We have seen this ])ictnre in living tableaux a
thousand times, and Ave have but to witness the dif-
ference in the training of domestic aninuds aniou":
men every day. Take the mean hireling of a mean
nnistei-, and he makes a mean nude; and one-half of
the difficulties and disasters resulting I'rom the em-
ployment of aninuds originate in their abuse or their
ill training. Thousands of lives are lost or limbs
broken every year by aiumals made vicious by their
more ignorant, brutal, and vicious masters. Cruelty
to aninuds has become an obnoxious misdeme-
punishable by law, and this is one grand step in ..
direction of education, both to the brute that beats
and the beast that kicks and runs away or perishes
from cruelty. Of course some animals, as well as
men, are more vicious and uiunanageable than others.
A degree of force often has to accomi)any education.
The rod of authority has to lie behind the throne upon
which even love wields her scei)ter; but in all train-
ing or develo])ment of num oi- l)east the rod and the
cudgel should be the last resort, and then onlv wielded

II I

m
III

; ?

■!

KrxnxKss axd cuukwvy.

in the liaiuls of lovino-ki„dnes8 and tender mercy
It was once the custom to make tl.o prison-house the
veiy synonym of cruelty; but our Christian civiliza-
tion has entered the doors tliereof Avith the out-
stretched hand of mercy and kindness, and tlnmsands
have been reformed in the very dungeons of demo-
nuical imquity and misery. The laws of a country
should beexecuted, but justice in Innnan affairs should
always be tempered with mercy, esijecially as regards
the methods and nunmers of treating the criminal and
the beast.

Let me say that love is always the ruler, for ''love
18 kind." The preacher, the parent, the teachei-, the
kmg on the throne, every man in position or author-
ity over his fellows, who has sought in patience and
lorbearmice to exercise this most excellent of all
graces, has learned the cumulative and lu-ogressive
value of loving-kindness, accompanied by tii-mness
and decision. The venomous serpent, the wild beast,
the savage breast, the hardened criminal, the rebell-
ious subject, the obdurate child, the sluggish student
—all yield at last to persistent argument and persua-
sive gentleness. A refractory sailor, who had been
whipped a dozen times, burst into tears and became
obedient when the captain said : " Let us forgive him."
That little superintendent of the penitentiary who
stood before a fierce band of convicts broken loose
and determined to fight their way out, about to rush
in desperation against the armed guard, in spite of all
threats and warnings— that little man, with a reed in
his hand, coolly and kindly pleading for submission,
was mightier than a company of soldiers with fixed
bayonets and double charges. That teacher before
her rough and stubborn boy, exhorting with stream-

KIXDXESS AND CIIUF.LTY.

in<j^ eyes and agonl/ing' heart to good behavior and
studious habits, outdid all the tcrroi-s an I teaching of
the rod. She made a man and a schohw of him when
all else had failed. The institutions and governments
which have dealt only in force are all dead, or dying,
to-day. Proud Kome. the mistress of the Avorld,
whose organized power cj-ushed all the dominions of
the earth, is dead, and so are the Babylonian and
Macedonian and the Mcdo-rersian Empires of tyr-
anny and cruelty dead. The day of the tyrant and
the c(jnqueror by force of arms is departed, and
the spirit of the age in which we live is concession
and compromise, resisting every encroachment which
would dominate and destroy a weak and helpless
neighbor.

"They that take the sword," says Christ, "shall
perish i)y the sword;" and this ])roposition has been
well established among men and nations. Js^on-re-
sistance, personal kindness and love to even an enemy,
the return of good for evil, have proved to be the rule
of empire which sways the human heart and blesses
and gladdens the Avorld as never before in its singu-
lar and changeful history. The people Avho rule this
Avorld to-day are loving Christians; and the mission-
aries of India have done more for that people than
the Government of England; nay, the missionaries
have guided England into the only policy at last by
which India can best be ruled, elevated, and blessed.
So it has been with all the benighted regions of this
earth, however opened ui)by the conqncst of arms and
education. Christianity has turned the cannibal of
the Fiji Islands, the Esquimaux of the polar regions,
the wild Patagonian of South America, the benighted
African of the jungle, the savage and the barbarian

KIXDXKSS AM) < liUKI/l' V.

of every clime aiulconnti-y, into an intcHlgcnt inul eiv-
ili/.ed eiti/eii luulcr agcjod ami whok'soiiK'g-ovennm'iit j
and the kind-hearted, loving-, self-sacrillcing- mission-
ary isj the world's greatest benel'aetor and noblest eiv-
iiizeron the pages of history. We Mere all once bar-
bai'ians and heathens. The (iei-nian, tlie (Jaul, the
Saxon a lew centuries ago were bowing at the shrines
of Druidisui, the sternest and eruelest system ol"si)ir-
itual tyranny' which e\er dominated the human mind;
and we can but g-ive Christ the glory, whose missiona-
ries carried the cross and the gospel to our rude ances-
tors. Christ reigns over the world by love, and in \)ru~
])ortion as pure and primitive Christianity i)lants the
banner of the cross upon the shores of a countiy does
it learn to rule itself under that generous and equable
dissemination of liberty and light which teaches men
individually to respect and love one another.

Lamartine truly said that "kindness is virtue it-
•sell'." Kindness alone can give birth to kindness,
and through its holy etlicacy can ])urity ever be in-
culcated from one heart to another. !No true J'efor-
mation ever took place muler force and cruel t}'; and
the rod of power never yet drove hoiu)r or true sub-
mission to right into the breast of a human being.
'J'he best educators, the noblest of evauijelizers, as
well as the mightiest of rulei's, are kindnt uid love;
and virtue, holiness, and i)iety best llourisl, in their
atmosphere. " Clemency alone," said the heathen
Claudianus, ''makes us eqmd with the gods;" and
even among us Christians nothing makes us so God-
like as loving -kindness. Harshness and violence
close men's hearts to all good, and even the denunci-
atory i)i'eacher of the gospel has no power over his
audience. " Vinegar never catches flies." It was

■hi

KIXDXESS AXD CRUKLTV,

not tlio cold nortli wind, but the sunHliiiK', according
to the I'iible, which made the tniveler take oil' hin coat.
" Jleaven in jsuii.sliine will re<{iiite tlie kind," said By-
ron; but, ilrst of all, it is the kind who make the
sunsliine of lieaven to fill the luarls of men. " [ was
a very bad boy at school," said an old deacon to me
not lon<j;' since; "but," said he, "1 had a kind teach-
er, and that U'acher's kindness changed my life and
made me what 1 am to-day." lie said his mother died
wluni he was youn;L^, and ins father was a cold, stern,
and demure man. Jle shed no sunshine at home, and
lor every inlraction ol' ])arental rule he was whipped
and culled. The kind-hearted teacher taught him
virtue and manhood by love, exercised forbearance
and forgiveness toward his faults, and through patient
endurance and culture gave him the inspiration of
ho])e and jjromise in life which made him a num.
God alone knows what kindness and love have done
and arc doing for this poor, sin-cursed world.

Let us be kind to one another. Xothing pays so
well in return, and nothing is so cheap in its invest-
ment. IIow often has this thought come home to me
when I have remembered the beautiful words of Whit-
tier !

A little word in kiiulness spoken,

A motion, or a tenr.
Has often healed the heart that's broken

And made a friend sincere.
A word, a look, has crushed to earth

Full many a budding flower.
Which, had a smile hut owned its birth,

Would bless life's darkest hour.
Then deem it not an idle thing

A pleasant word to spenk ;
The face you wear, the thought you bring
A heart may heal or break.

•j!>.S>«~>i«_S>«~>4_»

RIP 1/flN WINKLE.

*w.J

JM'^ '''ivc all hciinl the story of Kip Van Win-
xM^^ ^"^'*^'' ^^''" '"^'''l ■'''^ '"'<■!• too well, who fell
^M^ ' '>^>i't'l''iillicCatski!l Moiiiuaiiisoiia hiint-
Ij, ing ('X|K'(litioii, who slept twenty years, who
^^ wIk'Ii he awoke was iiiit'onscious of tlie tiiiii-
_;;Q lied hy, notwithstaii(lin,<.- the stoek had rotted
from his ^iiii-haiTel, and not withstanding- the .skeleton
of his doM- lay hy hin.. all hieaehed and in deeav, and his
own hair had «Town white and as lon«.- as his |)„dy.
He went haek to iiis old village, hut it had Toiootf Jji
him, and the places which once knew him knew him
no more; and such wei-j the ehan-es that he knew
them not. Fan ily. IViends, and a'' .vliom Ik; had I'or-
mei'ly and familiarly known, had passed away, and yet
all thino-s, as they /tm/ ken, were IVesl, !i the nlind ol'okl
Iii|), the awakened sleeper. He had slept (o(, lo„ir,
and his sleep had thrown him twenty years behind thJ
a^^e, all unconscious of the i-apid roll of old Time's
win«.ed wheel. So thousands sleep to-day, upon all
qnestions of proo-ressive development. There are ji
few i)eople in our country yet who have never seen
a railroad, nor heard the whistle of the locomotive.
I saw several yeai's a^^o, a man from the mountains of
Korth Carolina who had ridden horseback all the way
to Memoliis. He iiad never seen a steam-boat, and as

KIP VAX WrXKLE.

P t

w ^

he stood near u little stern-wheel steamer he said to
me : " That's a joe darter, an't she? " 1 told him it was
a very small hoat, but he couldn't believe it until pres-
ently I pointed him to the :Natchez, just coming- in
sig-h't, and as she landed the old :Xorth Carolinian
opened his eyes and his mouth, and gaped and won-
dered with astonishment.

The picture lor this sketch represents the man worse
behind the times than any other man in the world.
It is the old Kip Van AV inkle Anti-missionary, lie
sits upon his ])orch in the evening as the sun sinks be-
hind the western hills. AH is favorable to reverie and
dream, to the thoughtful and imaginative mind. He
is not an idiot, however illiterate, and he is not nec-
essarily an illiterate man. He has been reading his
Bible all his life, and, in spite of verse and sermon to
the contrary, he has been persuading himself that the
cause of Missions is a fraud, especially i^onvV/M Missions.
He has been taught and has been teaching that if God
wanted the heathen converted he would send whom-
soever he would, without money and Avithout price, to
the benighted nations. He has not believed in con-
ventions and boards and man-sent missionaries, and he
has not believed in systematic methods of raising means
at any cost of agencies, or otherwise, to take the peo-
ple's "cash." He has persuaded himself that agents
and boards and missionaries are stealing the contri-
butions raised for them; and that (iod does not and
cannot bless these men-insi)ired methods. He reads
the Bil)le in vain which says, " (Jo ye into all the world,
and preach the gos])eI to every creature," and he dis-
believes the marvelous account of missionary zeal and
results in Ongole and liurmah and Cuba and Mexico
and the Fiji Islands. He doesn't believe a word of

KIP VAX WrXKLE.

it, and he nays no heed to the Macedonian cry, " ('<,n^
over, and help us." Ho reason, no argtnnent no pe !
suasion can move him; and thongh the vision of the
helpless heathen, as in the pictn.: con.es often befbre

. .sioht. le ,s a great dreamer and visionary in
1 oligion. He spiritualizes every thing, .ukI has n nch
eonhdence in signs and sounds and virions; but tliis
IS one vision he never allows to stand long before him
He can t away with the heathen. He has .^ept too lo.",'
as lis long beard and hair indicate; and he will live
and die and go before God with the dread confession
at he spent a life r ',liudness over the grandest is-
sue o any age. Goa .orbid that I should live and die
an anti-missionary!

This brings us to the serious and solemn thought
that the gre^itest issue of the nineteenth centur^ is
Mission,. The world has been eighteen centuries open-
ing the gates of the nations to the gospel. Primitive
Christianity made grand strides in this direction, carrv-
ing the gospel to all the provinces of the Koman Em-
pire, but the regions beyond were never reached un^
til modern tunes. Besides this, primitive Christianity
Itself was ingulfed in the -Dark Ages," driven to the
^ alleys and the fastnesses of mountains, until the Ref-
ormation of the sixteenth century; but since that time
the evangelist and the missionary have gone forth to ev-
eiy accessible land. The sword of conquest, the cannon
ot J.ngland, have opened gradually every dark shore
and continent to the Bible; and dnring this centui v, for
the first time in the history of the world, every mition
has received the messengers of Jesus Christ. The walls
oi China have crumbled-the hardest nation to reach
beneath the sun-and the black continent of Africa

mv VAN \viM\ij;.

i» n

luiH lu'cn ('xi)lt)ro(l and oiuniod by the missionary hiin-
seir, and by snch mm as IJowcn, Livingstone, Stanley,
Haker, and otluTs. It, look tbe civili/ation of mod-
ern times, springinj;- IVom tlie U'elormalion of Luther
and otliers, lo make tbe world aeeessible to llie g'os-
pel; and llie man «»r tbe denomination opposid to
iMissions is Ijliml to the signs of tbu times in which
ho lives and in opposition to tbe sublimest issue of
the nineteenth century. The issues of slavery, polyg-
amy, war, prohibition, religious and jjolitieal libi'rty,
allihese are grand, and in part settled; but the last
great triumph and consnnnnation of Christ in this ago
is the sending of tbe gospel to all tbe nations of Ibo
earth, and all other issues, begun or settled, arc but
auxiliary to Ibis. This of all other issues is the great'
est from several stand-points:

1. It fullills tbe sublimest i)ropliccy of modern times
—the promise of (Jod that his Sou should have "tho
heathen for his inheritance" and the " uttermost parts
of the earth for his jiossession," and tluit even dark
Ktbittpia should stretch forth her bands unto (Jod.

2. It is in obedience to the grandest l.;>v of God
ever enacted: "(Jo ye into all tbe world, and i)reach
the gosi)el to ei'cn/ creature." This is the commission
of Christ — univei-sal to man's universal need and based
upon the (Christian's universal duty; and the (Jhris-
tiau, or deuominatlou, which does not love *^ all the
world" for which Christ died is not catholic in si)irit
and cannot have the world in catholic possession.
Our lov<> has to be three hundred and sixty degrees
of the earth's circumference in order to be missionary,
and if it is not missionary, it is nothing— yea, it is
Rip Yan '^Vinkle, and dead asleep.

3. This issue of Missions is the grandest of the nine-

nil' VAN WINKLK.

•>!>

teeiKii ..•ciitury, hcfiuiHc it bnii-s i„ t|,o Hublimcsl ccm.
Biminiiiti(.ii of the age, the Keeoiid coining of the J.on]
Jcsiis ChiiHt. lliH proiniHe i.s (hat when the gospel
has been preached as a witiiesH to all the iiaf ions then
"liie end shall come," and when the end comes he
comes. The time iw not lar oil', lor (he missionary is
going rapidly everywhere, and alas for the poor old
Kip Van Winkle of any denomination wlio does n(»t
read thJH gloi-ious sign (d'thc tiniesl

4. This issue of this period is the grandest of the
century, because it involvew the conversion of two-
thirds of the population ol' the earth. About one
thousand millionH ol' human beings have not yet been
brought to Christ, even nominally, much less s|)iritu-
ttlly. VViuit a Btupendous work ! How slow and long
It has been reaching this pointl J low impossible it
luis seemed lieretolbrel And yet the icebergs ui' the
polar shore break up i-a])idly as the heat of summer
brings to bear its cunudative eneigy, however long it
may be in reaching the result. So with JVIissions.
The icebergs are beginning to melt and break u]) rap-
idly. The nations are softening under the light of the
gospel. Knowledge is covering the earth as the wa-
ters cover the sea. Ciod seems now, as nevei- before,
to be in a great hurry about something. Thousands of
young men and women are rising up and ai-e ready to
"go," and thousands are opening their i)ocket-books to
the gi-eat work. AV^>e to the Hip Van Winkle who still
shuts his eyes and cries: "Away with the heatheni"
lie had better have a millstone tied about his neck
and be cast into the sea. It is a dangerous thing to
be a Kip Van Winkle in the nineteenth century.

5. Missions is the grandest issue of this or any other
age, because it has opened up and developed the gos-

I i'

1(H)

in I* VAN WINK I

pel (liyiiily ()(' women imd cliildrcn. ( 'lirisliimily Isi
the liluM-jilion ol'lliesc IVom the HhiiekU'sol" inim'H {\r-
juuiy in every n.u-e nnd hind, and Cln-islianily Ims set
them IVee in heal hen eonnlries and i)nt (hem (o work
in ('ln-is(ian huuLs. It has (aken (ho woHd ei,i-h(<'('n
«'en(in'ie8 to si'o that a woman was wortli soniediinir
and (() see (hat a ehihl e.oiMd bo eonver(ed and pnt (o
learn and (o hd)or Cor fJesns. Wo liave had bnt IKtIo'
more eonee|)(ion of womaij's ludigions worfh, of ohil-
dron's iin|)or(Mnee, (han tho hoa(hen, and it is only l)e-
ginning to (hiwn Inlly npon ns the meaiun^- of Christ
when he said: "Snller the litth) ehihlron to come nnto
nie, and forbid them not; for of sneli is (!k> kin,i;(h»ni
of God." Ti!o women and tho chihh-en are abnost nni-
vorsally missionary, and a bn-gi' part of our contribu-
tions and labors como fr«)m tbis nonj-ee. ^riiey still
have biijfher li<i^hts and dee])er depths of enlightenment
and development as the world's great missionary eauso
shall march t)n to the coming of Ciirisl, and the end of
the ago. Quito a nund)or of old Kip Van AViidvIes try
to keep down the women and children, but the world
moves on and so do tiio women and children, nover-
theless.

(u)d help the Rip Van AVinlclosI Brethren, let us
pray for more laborers in tho harvest, but let ns also
pray that God will remove the old iiips, or the young
Rips, or else convert them. They are "moss-backs "
— long-haired, ragged, and antiquated — and they be-
long to anotlu'r age. They are Silurian fossils. They
have no business living over hero iti tho uiiu>teeuth
century. Thi>v would be tit only for the museum in
tho twentieth century, a relic of barbaric Christianity,
if 1 might so stignuiti/.e our great and holy religion.
These old Kips are greatly in tho way in sonic sec-

IMI' VAN NVINKI.K

101

i(\y piiralyzn

tioiiM and in iiiMiiy «.(' cur ( 'liiirclics. Tl

or Iclliur^nzc our yoiin- inxl jliry |„in^^ li'k,. ;, niili-

Htoiii! nroiiiid the lu'ck «.r flu, ('hii'rcli. 'Vhv time I

C'OIIK' lor lIlCIII to rrvt OI||, illl(| i-vl.

lil.S

iiwfiy.

K! HIM! IH

111 Its /cnidi; owlsnnd hnls, 1„ _y„„,. |,o|,.m. 'n„. ii,„„
"iiis ('(.iiK! when iill Chrisliims slioiild Ici.rn, lik(, I'..,ul

<', to idl iiicii-

(lint they jirc dchtors, IWr Clirisfs s;il

to tilt) Jowim.l Iho (ircck, loll,,. I.oud'.,,,,! Mk^ I

to tlic Miudv iiiid the uliilc. All

rt'c

ood, and in ( 'lirist u.> rcaeli tlio idoiiofll

men iM'(; oC "oru

Hid hrollicrlioo.I oC mjin. () (or llijit mi
of rani, who conld wish hiniscir

i(! nniNcr-

if it Avonld lu' (ho nu

ssionary '/.rn\
iiccnrscd (Voin ( 'hiist

cans ol savinn;- his kinsmen in IIm;

peril

ilesli, and which sent him, umld iimniiKwabl

tho world over, to ))riiio- tJio (Jenlilcs <o Christ! (

nil Ihc men wlio ever lived runl was tl

and iiKtdel of 9ii/

10 inipci'sonation

^sww/^o•//rel|H■|on, and no element in the
woiiderriil rom|)onndorhis sublime character eonliil)-

11 tod

more to his iinmorlal lai

ill

IK! and liisdealhlesH woi-k

»o where you will, searcli where you may, yon will

find that tl

has I

le «,nvatest bi'iicCactor of the I

iiinian race

)cen the missionary, and tlio man wlio I

las (Mui-

tribulcd most to retard the j)ro;,'-ress of mankind 1
been the Rip Van AVinlclc who wanted to I

las

God's blossini^s at homo.

\eej) a

^fr^,Z--^A^r:^

Whipping the Dewil around the Stu/ap.

;

1 ;

1 :

i . 1

* > * < '^

(HE subject of this sketch, as may readily he
seen from tlie illustration, is dodg-ing-, or
what is more vulgarly and proverbial-
ly called "whipping the devil around tho
stump." The picture shows an old gentleman
talking to his son, perhaps expostulating- Avith
him a1)out some wrong-, whihsthe boy plausibly dodges
the " old man " and evades detection and difficulty.
The devil is screened behiiul a stump, and while the
bo}^ is ostcnsil)ly laying on the lash the devil is laugh-
ing lit to kill himself at the artful performance; and
at which ])('rf()rmance the boj^ himself, with one eye
on his latlu'i- and the other on the devil, laughs in his
own sleeve. Of course his Satanic majesty doesn't
mind being whipped in this kind of Avay. It is a
flagellation Avliich does not hurt anybody but the
dodger. '' Tell the truth and shame the devil " is the
only square blow Avhich hurts the " father of lies;"
but Avhen the truth is told, and yet not told, acted,
and yet not acted, in the way of a dodge, you only hit
the devil in fun, without hurting him, and he enjoys
it. In othei' words, you fool somebody else and hurt
yourself, and this is quite a pleasant Avork for the
devil to Instigate and yet appear to suffer the penalty.
The devil and the dodger understand each other,
(102)

."^

fuK

_^VUIPPIV« TIIK ,^VrL AROUNH T.IK STUMP

105

of uu jnculeut in slavery thnes. One ni-.- tn"

tol. Jus son to tie a no,., hoy, „a„,ed Al to " s
and o.,ve luniusonn.l tln-aslnno-ibrson,.... l '

The Hon -iiwl Vif ""o^oi sonic misdemeanor.

.„„;:;;-i'^::i;:,:r:,,!;:;;;'r'j'xi:'';;.'''-

"Hi„„ a, I beat th. ,.„.,„,,, ,,J:;,,^ >;.;/• ^;;»

i "". g.v.i.pou tl,„ .lovil, a» he t,.l,l ,ne t„ " ',t
son beat „,e l.o,t, Alfbeilowecl, „„,, the , ,.„,
'." '"^""' '"^ l«^^''l"'"""u-e with ,,e,leet satislT, ■ ,

the btunil , as see., ,„ ,„y pi,.,,,,. ,„„| ,

: Tf :ou;r'':f ;' ;;■ ""^ -'""-^'yioabont :,,:':;:;

All <lul, be a,.e the „,„1,1, and ho laughs at the por-
f«>™,n„„ about as Alf „i,l, to hnnseln Sa,a„ w'„.l«

does Jus iavoiito dodo-er.

TJiis species of Jyino- .vlietlier spoken or acted, mav
be called cu-cnlar; in otl.er words, a dodge is a cii--
cnlar iie. It is a lie by eircnmlocution oi- circumven-
tion appeanng I.onest, telling tJie trnth, in fact, to tell

wl i!l, T •'/ """^'•^- ^' '' '' '^''^'^ ^' ^^--'l^tion
mJucJi flescnl)es a circumference about the point to
be evaded and which does not go straight to it, <n.t>
tnig out of tJie difKculty l)y diverting the attention in
unother direction. It tlirows its victim off guard, and
the victimizer is often the studied villain in that
school of lying indirectly when lying directly will not
g:et ]„m out of the difficulty to be evaded. It is more
artful than square lying, and the expert can describe
a circle as easily as a square without the slightest me-
chanical aid of the semi-diameter. . The art seems to
be readily learned too, for even children not unfre-

lOG Wllll'l'lJSU TlIK l>KVlli AUOUNl) TllK HTUMI'.

qiicntly are lulcptH in this vice. Little riiarlic cmno
homo one Sunday aCternoon with n i)ai)(.'r l)a^ of can-
dy. " AV'here did you j>t't,tl»at candy, Charlie? " asked
the mother. " CJot it at the drui,'-store; didn't buy it,
though." " How did you get it, then — you didn't beg
it?" ''No, nwi'ani; I told the doctor that I would
got some more candy next week, and as this was worth
ten cents I would i)ay him twenty cents for the next
ten cents' worth; so you see, mother, Ididn't trade on
Sunday; " and thus the little fellow whipped tlie devil
around the stump (m the Sabbath question as artfully
as an old expert. This was equal to an old minister
1 once heard of who loved whisky, and who was al-
ways ailing "in the head, hip, and side," and alllieted
with the '^ inlluenza." Jle would not go to the saloon
nor send to the wholesale ]i(iuor-dealer to get his
brandy, but he would go to the drug-store and get a
jn-escription by the quart, hall-gallon, or gallon, as
the case might be, with a small amount of Peruvian
bark put into it in order to give the color of medicine.
He persuaded himself that he needed it. He claimed,
and believed, jjcrliaps, that it did him great good; but
he was whii)ping the devil around the stump in order
to drink liquor, as thousand.^ upon thousands have
done who did not want to come straigh. out to do the
open thing. Multitiulcs of prohibitionists, great tem-
])erance men, are eloquent alxmt the " great cause,"
but thoykeep "the little brown jug" with "shot" in
it behind the door — for health!

;Not only do children learn this art quite young,
but often it is found well developed in the ignorant
and illiterate. The uegro, for instance, is a fine
dodjrcr, and so of the most unlettered Irishman— ^the
only two human beings upon earth who possess a ua-

JMniTPiMNu^rm^Movrr. akcund thk ktumi.. 107

no c.mrnctcM-l.snc,an<l Hpecific wit above ofl.cr nu-
ti..nal.t.cs, una whose wit is ortencst brought into ,,!;,.
in the art of wlupp.no- the devil arotnul the Ht.ln,^

fe. in, ^Nherc did you ^.et that melon? " « ]{„^., ,., „
nebber koteh Sam . id a watennilllon cepl in' fZ^Z

own patch, did you?' '^No" "AV^olJ -i
hovxv\U» um\ L ; >VelI, den, y.,u neb-

ber vill "But, .Sun., you have aist oou.e out, of n.y
patch; at least you are oonnng from that direeti<,n/'
lioss, d.reckslmn.s luib ^ot nuthin' to do wid an hon-
c.t n...ger." Of course tliere was no way to eatch
feani except to track hnn to the patch. Patf the Jrish-
mun^ who sworo oU' from drinkln,, who for a lon^.
hue kept sober and who at last broke his pled,.^
gives u fine .pecnnen of whipping the devil around
«K) stump when he .hstinguished between himself and
Put who took the drink. It was not himself at all
that did It, but It was Pat, and upon Pat he shoved all
the blame when it was himself that was Pat, and Pat
was he; and so he explained to the priest

This vicious and artful sin is almost universal in
high life and by more rosponsible people, as well as
among the young, the ignorant, and illiterate. The •
intoxicated husband coming home late, trying to talk
Wisely and walk straight, is whipping the devil around
the stump to Ins wife and children when he is drunk
clear through and visibly full to the sight of the dull-
est observer. How often the derelict husband in va-
rious ways whips the devil around the stump to the
Oeception of his " darling wife » the Lord only knows.
Ihe schemes and devices of the business world, be-
hind the counter and on the mart, often take the shape
of this artful sin. ^ The horse-jockey deak in a thou-
sand circular lies in order to sell or swap his old doc-
tored beast, and when you have been swindled you

'1 \

U\t^ wiiii'i'iM. Tlin in;vii, Aijoi M- Tin; HiiiMi'.

rniiiiol |Miitit lo 11 Hiii;;k' h(|iiiiii' li»' in llu Inidc. Ito-
f»'H«tiH Jutliic iuid tin jury, ill HpiUMtr (lie lawyi'r'M
t^-iHtuu, tiir (iotlyrr «»n ilic nIhii I whips the lallu'rot'
lU'H aiKMn'^ till' "Imiiit. " I )i<l yivu lul lu'lpHlful Mu-ho
tliiu^i'si' *' was (iiicc asked of nil cxihtI. criiiiiiial who
was the siis|)('i'l('(| *' |)al " nC a ci'tMik <»ii trial. " I'vo
always Iried to li\r an hoiirst. man," he said, with nii
air (»(' iiijiii'tMl iiinofi-iu't', "and I ueyiT look any (iiiiii'

ill ni\ lilt' hnt an ninhrelhi.

e at

liially

(lis ii'inec

siispifion, lhon;;h alllt'r\yard t'(tiiyifti'd of the eriiiie of
whit'h he was tryiii<^ t(» clear his " pal." I t.iiee hearil, in
a eotlon ease, a prominent witness tin the stand in be-
lialf ttl" his partner, hoth of whom were indicted lor
emhez/lini;' cotton stored in their warehonse. lie was
asked Ihe tpieslion il' he was not, en^'a^'cd i:i this criino
charged upon his partner. The t[nestion \\ast»l)jecte<l
to, ol'conrse, hiit he clit)se It) answer il. " Ila! ha! ha!
I look like a man wh<» wonid steal cotton? iSIy cir-
cumstances tlon't intlicato such at'iiii"^ mncli. lie!
he! he! I'd like to see the Jellow wlio thinks such a
thinii" td'me!" He spoke in such a manner as to
tlttdiiv eyen suspicion, but lio was ni'lerward found
guilty when put on trial. So in a thousaiitl high
places and ainon-j;- the big<>-est folks the art of whip-
\n\\'j; Satan around the slump is ])racticed, even to
perjury. IVrhaps the most artful dodger is the poli-
ticiai..

Cain was the iirst dodger in history, unless Adam
and ]^ve sbonhl be considered as whipping the devil
around the stump when, clothed with fig-leaves, tbr/
were dodging (Jod in the garden of Eden. I'o cir-
cumvent (iod's iiuiuiry, "AVbere is thy brother?"
Cain replied: ''Am I }ny brother's keeper?" and since
that tiui> •'Vic world luu' kept up the art of dodging

__Wmi.,..N,; ,ni l,KV,LA.MMN„T,.KMT,,M,..

hK>

l>n!((,y vi|;(»n»iiM|

ii»r it— .<!
of Hi

<\iia

«'l'IVIII^rt|„.|,. |„.,.||„'t.|, 1,^ Jl

"'nsaiMlSapphinnvt,,.,. |^j,|,.,,

<>r Hii'ir lilKialit^, uiid
•iiiduH \vlii|tjic(l (III! (Ifvii
Ih'IijijimI IiIn MaHti'iMvilh a I

"' 'ij')»'i''^:i't triilh

ft l^lll- („ 1|„, J|,,| c

around Mu, nfu

ly Spiiil.
iiip when i

klHH, CM

IH'oially in (he d(

;:r;'7'''<''*-'l'--'-*li-i|'l-;andlKU.an;a.d
lor It tin) Hamo <laj. J'odT i|

c)n(, nidioii'Hi III! I

HiirpriHc, hi! said (o (I

K'<^an lo dod-r^l! ^yj

hiniHcir
"'•■d liJH I.<,n[ H(rj,ii.|,(,

'fii, widi aHKiiiiicd

<''<'«' Hay,.H(." Upontho vvhol,., "l

I*' inai(|,.,i: "| k„„vv not ul

Hiimiri'ly on thin oi-o

ISIO

lat
', however, Pctw \U,(\

"; l>iitl'anl can^^ht himdod

'^atAnioe.i,andidan..ihin;(;:;d:;-:; I ':^

otadod,.e.,andyetitdidHeen.uli,(|eh

n;, Sa(an around the H.nnip when he went up to :.

n.sale.n, Hhaved Imh head, and went (o ..har;,.s with

1- 'JcMVH, endudly n,Mho purpose of HVoidlM. dis.

vor an.l <, WMinin^^ iuMuenee. Jt was at lea«t Mha(

.-;.IIy virtue c-alled poliey," if it was not dod.^ini,

tl.c.««ue. The best oC,,eopli, under extiaoidiw;

cireu,nHtances,have(|,,c|^.i,lH.>.neti,neHandson,ewlM.,e
One tliere mm, liowever, wJio never dod-ed. Jt vas
JcsuH. llewhippe.l the devil, hut not around he
Btump. lie always struck him s.iuan.Iy ],etween the
eyes and ho vanquished him forever. "Resist tie
( evd «nyH James, » and he will llee iron, you: " 1„ t
10 old liar and deceiver enjoy h nod.iu^. hette. tluu.
the ody eoly lashin- ho ^ets around the stump Jo-
Heph fled from him and left his coat behind him, an.l
«e had just as well have stood his o.,ound and fou-ht
Inm face to iiice. Abraham whipped him around The
ftump with Pharaoh, callin- his wife his sister, which
in a sense, she was; and he got both himself and'
h.s w.fo into trouble. The best plan is to follow
ClH-ist s example, even as a rule of policy, tel! the

ii-",l

IPil

110 W It ll'Piyd Till.: DK VIL AllOUSl) THE STUMP.

tnifli, shame tlic de\il, and sti-ike liim straight out
from the shoulder. Meet liim squarely, and you will
come out best in the end. As Shakespeare says, " No
leg-acy is so rich as honesty; " and it is a legacy im-
perishal)!e for time as it is for eternity. The dodger
is ever the loser in the end, and when his characteMs
once knowu he is among all men despised and dis-
trusted. Otway said, '' Honesty needs no disguise
nor ornament; de plain; " and it is the greatest conso-
httu)u and the surest benefit to the man of probir- and
integrity that he walk above suspicion by eschewino-
every art of deception. -The way of honest fame,"
saul bocrates, "is this: study to be what you wish to
seem; and it may be well said that, in the end, the
dodger Mill never reach honor, fame, or dignity Tud-
per has truly said; ^

"^"tomr""^''^"'^' '' "''* ^'°''^''^' *^"' ^' ^* S'^^*^^ °" ^^^
I speak of an honest purpose, character, speech, and action.
Honesty, even by itself, though making many adversaries
Whom prndonce might have set aside, or charity have softened.
Evermore will prosper at the last, and gain a man great honor

^ I" <•!

t-i»

,|:. m'

i u

^.-

ON THE FENGE.

t#-

|gp,>^V'^ loiio. ,„,t ^-e b,tweon two opinions?"
m^% Hc-c IS a i,oo,- lellou- on th. fence, sitting
'^^n|p , l»"^>^'t'<l =nul nn.lecido.l between hell and
S-^^ I.oaven l,etween ti,e ano^l of nuTcy and tlie
"ev. . Like Henl,en, lie is d.,nb]e minded, un-
stable as water, and cannot excel. Tossed
abont by eyeiy win.l of doctrine and temptation, want-
in^^ to do rjg-ht and afraid of g^in,- to l,ell, yet unable
to <nve up the world, Bxd3due the flesh, and resist the
devil. TIow many jnst sucl, are all aronnd us! They
swear off from the bar-room to-day and o,, back to-
njon-ow, resolve on Sunday and b.^ak tluMr vows on
Monday, promise ten thousand thino-s i„ ii,-,> ,„,| j,,,,^,.

good. Ihey arc on the fence in every thino- es„e-
eiMlly rehgiom Xo matter what o,,,at moral question
fepn.ij^-s up, they are always undecided if interest
appetite, or j^leasure stand in tlie way. 'I'hey are '^ be-
tweenhawk and buzzard" on prohibition.-esj.ecially
If business or politics are in the way, or if they are

tlinst for the bottle. ^Phey reco<,nize and feel the
great mora and economic principles inyolved in the
contest They discover that the saloon is the pro-
foundest curse of the country, the producer of crime,

(n:i)

ON TllK l'KN( K.

insanity, .-nul pauperism, tlsc dcbunchcr of politics and
the eoiTuptei- ol" le<^islalion, the destroyer of youth
and the delaeer of beauty, the promoter of strife and
niurdcT and hist, the degradation of morals, and tho
subverter of society, the deadly bane t)f the family,
the multitudinous breeder of individual ruin, the open
door t() hell from every avenue of social existence,
but they cannot be persuaded to act with the ref-
ormation of the ag-e in which they live. They will
not take sides, but straddle the fence and thus g-ivo
encouragement to the enemy, fallaciously imagining-
neutrality, when oldigation fixes their duty on the side
of right. So of every other question involving a con-
flict between duty and interest, pain and pleasure, in-
dulgence and self-denial, popularity and criticism,
right and wrong.

I have seen the preacher on the fence in things which
compromised his bread and butter or his pojjular stand-
ing in the conuuunity. On certain subjects he set his
sails with the wind, and his theology became like In-
dia rubber. Big sinners sat in the pew before him —
the wholesale liquor-dealer, the high-toned libertine,
the giddy fashionist, the splendid reveler, the dishon-
est dealer — but these magnificent sinners were rich
and influential in position. The faithful and honest
men and women of the Church nu)urned over spii'itu-
al dearth and decay; they called for discipline, that
now dead sage, but the world in the Church and out
of it rallied to '' its own." The poor i)reacher talked
of charity and love and sweetness, and lie dealt gen-
tly Avith sin, s])iritual wickedness in high ])laces,
while his conscience lU'ged him to hui'l thunderl)olts
and hold up the high standard of God's law and oi*-
der. There he sat on the fence, while his Church

OJ^r THE FEJ^CE.

_115

died, or until God let the devil in to tear it up -uid
put It 111 u position to revolutionize, reorgaui/c •uid
re-establi«li itself. So in u host of questions to-day 'the
popular preacher, occupying a popular pulpit, preach-
mo- to a popular congregation, is sitting on the lence,
while the devil laughs on one side, and the au-el of
Cu.d shrieks out on the other: " Cry aloud, and'spare
not! He claims "broad views on all subjects;"
and the popular press lauds him as a man of liberal
mmd and without bigotry. He deals much In the
icsthetics of Christianity, dabbles largely in the eth-
ical, and occasionally touches the gospel of salvation
or damnation with a " forty-foot " pole. Hell, except
in parlor parlance, is quite out of the fashion with
him, and the love and mercy of God, without tlie
wrath and justice of God, are invariably held up.
Sinners profess without repentance, and join the Chni-ch
without religion; but all runs well ju^t so the Church
flourishes in grand style and the pastor lives on good
terms, without friction, with his congregation and
with the community. He is on the fence in every
thing which would involve dispute or controversy
with any thing mortal, and he seeks to reconcile and
compromise away every difference as non-essential
distinctions, without difference, among men. We live
in the age of on-tlie-fenco religion and on-the-fence
ecclesiasticism and on-the-fence morality, "neither
cold nor hot," ready to be spewed out of the mouth of
Almighty God, increased in riches, full and wanting
nothing, yet ragged and miserable and wretched in
our delusion. This was the Laodicean sin whicli, fig-
uratively, makes God sick.

I have seen mothers and fathers on the fence with
their children. Especially is this so in these "last

ill

:-i t i

. ttmvammmvmMai/iMmiiti

■^.ijsmanmm

110

ox THE PEN'CK.

days " when cluklrcn have become iiiiiversally " dis-
obedient," and when tlie chikl, instead of the parent,
rales. The day of the rod is gone, it is said, and we
have readied the point where intelligence and love
prevail. We now jicrsuade and plead and beg, and I
have seen a child ofl'cndcd, pout, and sniffle nntil the
mother would go and ask its pardon, or otherwise ex-
plain and apologize lor hurting the little one's feelings.
The whole parental Iraternity of this country is now
on the fence with I'cference to child training and cult-
ure, Avith few exce])tions; and without a revolution
the next generation will iind the majority on tlie side
of tlie devil. • Little girls wear bangs and bonnets and
dresses like women, have acknowledged beaus, and I
have seen them meet on the streets of Xashville
and kiss! Young ladies and gentlemen correspond
through the telephone, keep hite hours in the parlor,
stand at the gate in the dark, go upon moonlight
excursions, and indiscriminately meet and associate
at watering-places among strangers of all classes
and characters. The parent is on the fence, not know-
ing what to do. There is nothing positive, but all
seems generally negative, in family training. The
child goes to school if it wants to, and but few ever
grow up now, es])ecially in our cities, to graduate
at a lirst-class institution, male or female, except from
the poorer classes. The boys and girls from the coun-
try constitute the main element seeking higher ed-
ucation; and in the matter of intellectual as Avell as
moral culture our city children are left ultimately to
do as they jdease, against the ])rotest of the teacher,
parent, and preacher. Xever Avas there, in my humble
opinion, an age of greater parental indifference, and
never Avas there a period in Avhich the independence

OS THE PENCE.

117

of children was so absolutely declarecl. Still the world
rolls on, and by otlier c-ounteractino- iniluences keeps,
eo fai', her level and upward and onwai'd way.

But of all the most pitiable and sorry pictures it is
the poor sinner on the fence and imable to decide be-
tween God and the devil. He admits himself a sin-
ner, he feels that hell is yawning'- beneath him and that
heaven is Avooin^i,^ him alwve; he hears the voice of
mercy calling- him on one side, and sees the devil beck-
onino- him on the othei-, but he cannot dedde. 1 have
talked with scores just in this condition; and some-
times, with tears and trembling-, tliey have admitted
just such a state of mind. They want to g-et to heav-
en, and they want to escape hell. They acknowledge
Christ as the only Redeemer; they confess that they
are wavering in the balance between two o])posite
destinies; but some pet object, some fanciful scheme,
some darling: temptation, keeps them undecided. Oft-
en they are hoping for the future, aud at the same
time dreading the terrors of procrastination, but they
continue to halt between two opinions. So thousands,
at last, have gotten down on the devil's side of the
fence, oi- else, at last, the devil caught them on the
fence. It is all the same whether a man sits on the
fence or gets off voluntarily on the devil's side, the
devil gets him in the end. Let no man persuade him-
self that he is neither for God nor the devil, because
he sits on the fence; for the fence of indecision is not
the diNidiug line between God and the devil. The
sinner already belongs to the devil, and until he de-
cides for Christ he is on the devil's side.

Jesus says: "ile that is not with me is against me;
and he that gathereth not with me scattereth abroad."
There is no middle, negative, nor neutral ground be-

118

ox THE FENCE.

twoen good nnd evil, betAvocn God und Satan. Thero
is no liali'-way house between liell and lieaven. I must
1)0 altogether on God's side, or altogether against him.
Wherever relation exists there obligation binds, and
I cannot etand neutral between God and his enemies.
I owe God all; and I am bound by his authority as
Greater and King, as Preserver and Kedeemer. On
the other hand, I owe Satan uothing save opposition
and resistauee; and any neutrality, any getting on tho
fence between God and him, is treason and rebellion
to Crod. Frederiek the Great said that iie was "nei-
ther lor God nor the devil;" in other words, he did
not know Avhere he stood; but he was mistaken: ho
was on the side of the devil if he was not with Christ.
The citizen cannot be neutral in w^ar toward his gov-
ernment. The wife cannot stand on negative ground
toward lier husband in eonllict with an enemy, de-
lation creates obligation, and there is no fence between
the two. Hence, as a sinner, I must be in harmony
with my environment, my conscience, my God, and
my record in order to l)e with Christ, and no being
was over so deluded as he who imagines that he can
be neither for nor against his God. He is for him or
against him— totally, Avholly, absolutely, altogether.
Agripi)a was "almost pei-suadcd" to be a Christian;
but Paul said tliat he must l)e "altogether," not "al-
most." God will not divide witli us, for there is no
room i'or division between salvation and damnati(m.

Joshua was the true type of the decided man of
God. "As for me and my house," he said, "we will
serve the Lord;" and he said to Israel: "Choose you
this day Avhom ye will serve." So said Elijah: "If
the Lord l)e (iod, follow him: but if Baal, then follow
him." Get on one side of the fence or the other, for

i .'» .1..

time while. v„„ live,? J .''',''''' «'>'^ >"'•" Jf<.'"l

"■:- "■ .-.v ..ceil!,, « ; ?■ ;;i""^."-i"^ -°

ecicnoe dun,l to G.kI « 11 1, , "' " <"'"-
ea«o„fi„,,i,|.o,,„K., "■'"''•' """"^ "'""'""■•'

" ««,„„„." It Joes „„t ia:'t ■;„„,"", r;rui'; ''" '■'"•
fill or»i'„, fit :!,,:: :;\t:: '""•'''! ""- -^

in m,cl, a decision. S,i 1 i". i' „ "* "" '"'Kl'inoss

not so bad as to slf ""'"■•■"■• "'»' i"=''l'"l«

-""itdy bottoMo d'ldet!'^! """'• '""• """•

How happy jire flioy
^ _ ^Vl"' «ioir Saviour obey!

•lisastcraadgriof II "r ,°'"''""'' ""'■■'• '■""•'"^

winch «:"-oudsth 'st „, ,f^;,%-7-->- "-* ''I""'!
eternity the ci-own „P l" ° '' '"'"™"; "''<1 '"

o»ce aching head of bis JZl^^j!""" ""°" *''^

TWO MASTERS.

Oman ciiii scrvi-lwo niasU'rs: (or eilluT lie
ICu ^vill lialc llu' (»iic, ami love tlic (ithcr; or
else 111' will hold to the oik-, and di'spiso
tin- otluT. \'c' cannot serve (iod and mam-
lon." In till' ])ii'(in'e l)e("ore lis Ave see a young'
lau liohliny on to Christ with one hand while
the world-god, mammon, holds him by the wrist of
the other hand. Christ is pointing him to lieaven,
while the grave and Satan are eoneealed ])ehi,'!d the
tem|)ting Avorld-god; and, strange to say, this •oung
man, Avith one eye on flesus and the other upon the
ohjeet ol" his idolatry, is holding i-n between Christ
and Satan, between hell and heaven, between ultimate
hope and despaii-. This is a ])ieture of" iloid)le-hearted
decision Avhieh, like double-minded imlecision, never
excels at any thing. Man has two eyes, two ears, two
hands, tAVo nostrils — in line, the double organ of all
the senses w ith one excci)tion — but he cannot be del-
initely conscious of seeing, hearing, smelling, touch-
ing, tasting but one object at the same time. He can
be or do but one thing distinctively at a time, and
no more; nay, much less can he serve Cod and mam-
mon, have two masters, op})osed to each, other, at once.
lie must, in order to be successful and hajipy, cling
to the one or the other, let loose one or the other, love
(120)

is '■. .

^ i

!|S

TWO MA ST I'll IS.

VSi

or liMte ono or i\u' other. A man nuiy follow several
(lelails or (iepartiiieiits of the same hiisiness in lilc;
his hnsiness and reIi<,^ioii may Im- in ih(^ same line, hnt
lie cannot serve (i«.(| ami hold on to a husiness, a
pleasure, a passion, mm appetite, or an idea which
serves the world, the Mesh, and the devil. The (tod
we serve and the v<»cation wo lollow, the thoni^'-hts and
emotions we cherish, the friends and companions we
keej), nnifit travel the same road. Otherwist-, our rc-
li^^ions life, at least, will prove a iallure both Cor time
and eternity.

1'ht'i-e are jnst four kinds ot' ])eoj)le in the world, as
illnstrated by the parable of the sower. There is the
''wayside hearer," who heeds n(jt the word, and who
never makes any profession of reli<fion. The " stony-
ground " believer is the volatile and variable enthnsi-
ast who runs well for awhile, but soon falls away be-
cause, like the soil on a fhit rock, his lieart gives no
permanent root to the word sown. Next comes the
" thorny-ground "' professor, who is choked up w ith
])leaHnre or with cares and anxieties or with the de-
ceitfulness of i-iehes; in other words, with the world.
Tlie "good-ground " hearer or believer has all the con-
ditions of heart essential to true and vital religion:
tlie soil broken up, the stones and thorns removed,
ami the seed sown so deep as to penetrate the depths
essential to dcvelopnumt, growth, and fruitfulness.
The "wayside" never comes to Christ; the "stony-
ground " comes and fall? back; the "thorny ground"
comes and holds on to both Christ and the world; the
"good ground" sticks to God, and brings forth fruit
according to ca])acil:y. The " st<my-ground " fellow
fills more the picture of double -mindedness in my
sketch of the undecided nuiu " on the fence." The

B OltM

124

TWO MASTERS.

"thorny-groimd" professor is the double-hearted fel-
low holding between two masters — Christ and mam-
mon — in this lecture. Our Churches arc full of both
stou}' and thorny ground religion; but Ave more read-
ily get rid of the " stony " than the " thorny." The
"stony-ground" fellow soon gets offended and falls
out of the way and the fold; and though he may come
and go, be in and out, he will finally leave, if not
truly converted. On the other hand, the thorny-
ground professor will hold on, hoping to escape hell
and get to heaven, like Atlas Avith the world on his
back. He believes in the old couplet:
Keligion never was designed
To make our pleasures less,
and he puts the sentiment to the perverted use of grat-
ifying his false and fatal conception of Christianity
as a worldly, sensual, or selfish religion. He Avill be
the speechless intruder at the great supper of the
Lamb Avithout the Avedding garment on.

There can be no excellence in a state of indecision,
as we have seen in our last lecture, Avhich is a com-
panion to this; and no more can there be excellence
in trying to decide in favor of tAvo opposite and an-
tagonistic ideas, things, or beings. Double-minded-
ness and indecision ahvays go together, and conspire
to produce failure and misery; and doublc-hearted-
ness, Avith its sinister vicAVs and motives, Avhether al-
ternating or holding on betAveen good and evil, ulti-
mately, if not immediately, reaches the same result.
It is strange that any one should ever be so blind or
stupid as to try to serve God ami nuimmon; but there
is a counterpart to this position in those Avho believe
that they can so live as to serve neither. As partial-
ly shown in the lecture before us, so let me emphasize

TWO iVfASTEKS.

125

the illusive mistake, and let mo say that no mattci-
how we imagine our position, v hetlier t-jing- to I)e
on the side of both God and Satan or on the^ide of
neither, we are certainly altogether on the side of the
devil. Obligation created by relationship fixes every
human being's allegiance to God, fixes his undyino-
warfare against evil; and neutrality, negativity, or in^
diflerencc auiounts to positive and absolute opposition
to that Being to whom we owe every thing. Omis-
sion and connnisslon of sin are two sides of an equa-
tion, and the only mark which designates the space
between them is the algebraic sign of criuality. Ije-
iiig equal to the same thing, they are equal to each
other; and the man who stands aloof and imagines by
his excellence that he is a law unto hiuiselff that he
serves neither God nor Satan, is like the traitor who
Will fight neither for nor against his country. ^J'he
man, however, who shoots at me to kill is no worse
than my friend, so called, who stands by and sees him
do it without interposition in my behalf, ^\c can-
not be for both sides of a question which involves a
clifTerence, nor can Ave be indifibrent to the difference
if relationship involves our obligation to one side or
the other. God will danui us in our double-minded
indecision, trying to decide. and never doing it. He
will damn us in our double-hearted effort to put our
arms around both, and he will danm us in the self-im-
portant solecism of imagined neutrality between good
and evil, between himself and Satan.

The man on the fence and the man trying to serve
two masters occupy befoi-e God about the same posi-
tion, and so of the counterpart of both— the man try-
ing to serve neither. These sins arc akin to each
other, triple sisters in the greatest folly which ever

'i%!

126

T\V() MAS'I'EKS,

cluiracterizod a man liaviiig- convictions or trying to
have them in delusion. One halts between two opin-
ions Avithout taking- sides; one runs witii the hare and
holds Avith the hounds; the other sits down in his self-
conscious dignity and jjlays the agnostic, who knows
nothing and has nothing to do Avith any thing or any-
body but himself. TWis latter position is based upon
the Ingersollian theory.

Coming specially to the subject now treated, the
man trying to servo two masters, there are multitudes
upon all questions — moral, social, political, and re-
ligious — who are ap])arently on both sides of eveiy
issue where self-denial or self-interest is involved.
What a hard and heartless jjosition to hold and task
to perform! IIoav unsuccessful and Avretched the life
with a double ideal of duty and relatioushi])! IIow
little of self-respect can such ])eople have! llow cer-
tain it must be that neither God nor Satan nor the
world can have any respect for them! Double-mind-
ed indecision is more the object of pity, but the
double-hearted purpose, to say nothing of indilfcrent
agnosticism, is the object of contempt. A cloAvn can
ride two horses going the same Avay, but no expert in
duplicity can ride two horses going in different direc-
tions. Heaven, earth, and hell have a ])rofound ad-
miration for the man Avho takes the right side of every
thing, and Avho eschcAvs especially the folly of takino-
both. Ilemay not be loved by the devil nor the world,
but he Avill be resj^ected and trusted by both the good
and the bad; and it is the decided man on the right
side Avho Avill occupy the highest i)lace in heaven.
Indecision, duality, or inditlerence, in principle or
practice, never avou a victory, accom])lished an end,
nor Avore a crown; and it is especially true that a man

'I'WO MASTKKS.

121

trying- to AViilk l)oth forks of n road will split liiiiiself
in two if lie suecoeds in tlio o[)cration.

Jitihuini is 11 specimen illustrative of this kind of a
man. lie was a double-hearted I'ool trying- to servo
God and Baal at the same time, lie wanted both to
curse and to bless Israel at once, trying- to keep God's
favor from fear, and trying to get lialak's gold Irom
the lovG of iillhy lucre, lie looked upon the g<Jodly
tents of Jacob with pious admiration and as])iration.
lie longed to die the death of the righteous and to
have his last end like his; but in trying- to serve both
Jehovah and Baal he lost both God's favor and Ba-
lalf's gold. He was osteusi])ly on both sides, but, like
the double-minded and double-hearted and the indif-
ferent in all cases, his heart was not on the Lord's side
at all. He was at heart the enemy of God and Israel,
however blinded in his imiigination to believe to the
contrar3% Xo man can serve two masters. Ye can-
not serve God and mammon. We shall love or hate,
hold to or let loose one or the other in the end, and
g-enerally God will be hated and loosed, as in Balaam's
case. In the very natui-e of things we cannot relish
incongruity, cultivate opposites, nor follow antago-
nisms long- at a time; and it is certain that success
and happiness would be impossible if we did. We
cannot enjoy bitter and sweet at tlie same time, al-
though every sweet, even to the decided Christian,
has a touch of bitter, and every bitter a touch of
sweet. We cannot deliberately mix them. The great-
est and best, the holiest and hapjjiest of all men have
been single-minded and single -hearted. The one-
idead man is the successful and ])caceful man, and the
one-hearted man is the good and hai)])y man. To do
one thing, to Ije one thing at a time, and to be and do

IS m

Il3«!<

8 I '}'

128

TAVO -AIASTKHS.

it well, is the only rule of liap])}' success; and this is
the secret of a perfect and lol'ty riirlstianlty.

Let mo say, in conclusion, tliat llie devil never
meets hisnuiteh save in the oue-idcad, siug-Je-uiinded,
w]u)le-licai'tcd Christian. He could do notliing- with
J')b except to make him cry and groan and complain
a little. Job vccogu'ized that God gave and that God
took away, that he had a ])roi)erty right in all his pos-
sessions, and that he had the sovereign control of his
life and destiny. He Avas a man of inflexible convic-
tions and of unfaltering and lixed i)uri)oses, and he
coidd exclaim, Vvheii all was gone: "The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name
of the I ord." " Tliough he slay me, yet will I trust in
him." Misfortunes nor carbuncles could make such
ji man "curse God." He made God's kingdom and
righteousness " first,''' numlier one. Himself, his busi-
ness, and his family belonged all to God as a part of
his religion; and the devil, by all the powers of loss
and atttiction, could not make him "divide." Intc"*--
rity of principle and character is what a man wants
to whip Satan Avith. The devil ahvays meets his
match in a w/tole man Avhen he comes in conflict Avith
an unmixed and indivisible and invulnerable iixtegrity
of character. He found no Aveak place in the fortress
of Job's character, no hole to lodge in; and the old
deceiver got about the worst thrashing, under all the
circumstances, he ever received before Christ struck
him between the eyes on the mount of temptation.
^V'liereA'er the devil finds a life full of Christ noAva-
days he always skulks away crest-fallen and defeated,
for he remembers that he cannot whip Christ Avhether
on the moumain's top or in the faithful heart. He
came unto Christ, but he fodnd "nothing," no ele-

TWO MASTERS.

129

mont o work „p„„, „„d ho found his overiastino- „„d
oyerwhohmng match. So he fom.d P„„i „ „,„tchlr
hm. n, .p,tc or all the cruelty aud i,crsocu" o h"
hea|«d upon hiu, Here was another ikole u.an u,,!
dn .< ed and unmixed, for Chrht; and, under God I
thedevib n hell and all the e.nissar es of the k;
on earth d,d not shake his life-long inteo-ritv Ho I, ,
but one ideal of glory, the cross;". nd h^ had b, t ' «
conception of life, Christ. °

Alas! how many unhappy and unsuccessful Chris-
t ans ,n the vvorld! How many unfortunate and m U-
crableonesl What is the matter? They .ro -,11 n, v„l
>U. with the world, swallowed up in S' m ' I^h-
ness, wallang cheek by jowl with the devil, tryho- To
serve two masters-God and n,annnon-and nu kin"
a wretched failure in both, especially in J2„\
« ha,-d to teach a Sunday-school class and ru ° o the
play-house and the dance-hall all the week. You
can t enjoy a prayer-meeting AVednesday eveninff and
go o the bar-room Tuesday night before. The ifo ™

The f!" -1 I ""'"T '"■" "<" "»^ Sunday morning.
The famdy a tar and the card-table do not „m togethJ
e.. Profanity and hymns will not jingle. There is
no harmony between a vile heart and n-ayer and Zise
and melody, when yon go to worship God. You c I'l
have he devil sitting in the pew with yoijmd ye
be trying to shake hands with Christ; and tou can'
eave Satan at the ehureh-doo,, if yJu run wMi In
dnring the week in pleasure and business. Chr

THE PERFEGT MODEL.

I»i

-^>4><-^

W I^^ have before us liere tlie perfect Model. The
^iWfQ^h *"■ "*^^' block of human nuture sits before
<!'U(0^^ the :sraster, and with the chisel of divine
^ij truth iiiul the mallet of his power, tlio Holy
J Spirit shapes him into the image of uie di-
_s^/-A ^'''^' Pattern with many ji blow and sharp in-
cision. This is the portrait, rather the sculpture, of
every Christian developing to the stature of the full-
ness of Christ by grov.th in grace and knowledge;
and whether the perfection is attained here below or
not, such will be the likeness and glory of God's child
when he awakes in eternity. We shall then be like
Jesus, and tlio sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit
will l)e c(nnpletc. How beautiful and glorious! Eye
hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart conceived
the exalted ctmsunnnatiop, The si)lendid svmbolism
of the ''bride adorned for her husband," the ''new Je-
rusalem," the glorified Church, " coming down from
God out of heaven," seen by John in Revelation,
gives us some conception of the grandeur of our
])errection in Christ in the heavenly state. We are
"complete in him," ])erfect in justification and right-
eousness imputed, perfect in divine and eternal^life
imparted, and to be jierfect in that sanctifying growth
which shall fill out our moral and spiritual stature in
n.SO)

iiiiiimiiiiiiii.

ri (

«,r

* I,

n| 1

; ,.•'->

fgygg H ? !T-y I'lrn. i iim i

'\ UK I'KHI'KfT .MoniM.

133

tlic imniaciiliitc Ibnn and ffisliioii of our Kedeenier.
Glorious Model! How we should sit before it, or hold
it ill frout of us every day, that we may be conformed
to his will and transformed more and more unto the
perfect day after his likeness und image by a livin«--
Baerifice unto him of body, mind, and soul!

Jesus Chi'ist said to the world: "Follow me.''' He
spake as man never si)ake. He made no mistakes in
judgment, committed no fault in morals. His exem-
plification of divine life in toil and teaching-, in trial
and siilfering, in self-denial and self-sacrifice, finds
iio parallel in the history of the world's best men, and
he uttered a doctrine and gave a system of religion
which are absolutely faultless. Perfect God, he'vvas
at the same time perfect man; and he so became allied
to human nature and all its wants and infirmities tiiat
he lived and died with a perfect human experience and
a perfect human character. In liis sympatlietic hu-
man relationship, in the contact of his God-touched
humanity, he became not only our model rjf perfection,
but he became the divine magnet which drew the
world to his feet. He is not a cold and far-off model,
to be philosophically or aesthetically gazed upon and
wondered at; but he came down to us in concrete form,
the " God with us" so entering into us that we might
enter into him; and, nestling at his feet, we can sit
and look into the face of a loving Friend who knows
and feels our wants and gives to our hungering hearts
every needed blessing and grace. We have a living
and loving model which knows and helps us to study
himself; and with such advantages of discipleship,
how rapidly Ave may develop into his likeness by fol-
lowing his footsteps under the guidance of his truth
and the inspiration of his Spirit!

TllK I'KKKKCT MODEL.

Ko other !M"in<j;- .since time began could have said,
" Follow me."' I'aul did say, " Follow me an I follow
Christ;" hut in this injuuelion hvi held u|) first of all
before us Christ as the model which he himself illus-
trated. No huuuin being, in himself and in the light
of his own excellence, could say, " Follow mo " — that
is, in the sense of a pattern for eternity. Some men
and women have lived and died excellent moral exam-
ples for the life we now live; but the purer and bright-
er they have beamed upon the world the darker they
have beheld their own imperfection and depravity.
The [lerfect Job said that he was a uorm's brother,
that he abhorred himself in "dust and ashes" Avhenho
came to fidly see himself in the justification of God,
and so of the 1)est who have liveil. Their lives and
characters, unck-r the mici'()sco[)e of God, would mag-
nify into lines of hideous shape and contortion. There
are none good, no, not one; and the great Apostle
Paul said of himself: " Xo good thing dwelleth in
me." There has never been one single i)erfect human
model to imitate, and not one, however perfect or per-
fectly imitated, could have transformed ns into a char-
acter fit for heaven. Jesus alone could say, " Follow
me," for he is the only one " altogether lovely and the
chiefest among ten thousand." He could say, " Come
unto mc and learn,"' for in the school of Christ the
soul could find rest and retreshment from God, wis-
dom and ])eace from above. The schools of Socrates
and Plato, the academy and the ])orch of the Grcelvs
were grand molders of human thought and character;
but the ]>hilos(.phies of the Stoics and Epicureans
long ago degenerated and died amid the indistinguish-
able ruins of atheism and pantheism, the profoundest
corruptei-s of the liuman mind and heart.

THE J'KUFKCT MODKL.

l.'jij

AHTeuehcraiul Exemplar Christ ccliphi-.s with tiims-
cendent ^'lory all tho sfliool-iiiastiii-.s of time, lie
tells and h1iow8 uh how to live and how to die, and he
brings with vivid reality and accuracy the panorama
of eternity before our eyes. He was the im|)'.rsona-
tion of that meekness and humility always horn of
greatness and gof.dness, but in him the impersonation
and incarnation of God and of (iodlikc chai-aclcr.
Ilis child-like innocence and simi)licity, coupled with
the lion-hearted courage and nmjesty of nmnhood,
brought together two extremes of human nature, be-
tween which pride and ambition, ignorance and prej-
udice, have ever nian-cd the glory and hai)piness of
the human family; and it is through the model teach-
ing and example of Christ that we behold to-dav the
sublimest illustrations of manhood on earth in imita-
tion of our great and only Master. The greatest men
and women of earth are Christ-like and child-like.
In patience and fortitude, in unblanched coui'age and
bravery, we behold the masterpiece of the moral sub-
lime in man when Jesus stood before Pilate, and sweat
great drops of blood in Gethsemane, and died on Cal-
vary. In toil and in tears we behold him the indefat-
igable laborer, conquering all things with the stern
strokes of industry, going about doing good. He
lighted up the dens of iniquity and the haunts of ])ov-
erty and the habitations of misery with the touch of
the tenderest and yet loftiest hmnanity, and he illus-
trated that great truth that sympathyand love alone
bring health and sunshine and joy to a suft'ering and
degraded world. lie i)roved, beyond the shadow of a
doubt, the impotency of all force to conquer and con-
trol men, and he set on foot a series of revolutions in
the salvation and amelioration of the centuries which

' I*' I

J !

i;{()

TIIK J'KUKW T MODKL.

owu (iK'ir ylory and their good to tlio theory that thuy
who take the Hvvord shall perish by it. The hiibliinest
triumph over the world wus tur.ght us iii his doctrine
of Ibrbearance and Ibrgivoness, and the best way to
hurt an enemy was to Iieap coals of lire upon his Jiead
by returning good for evil. In nil things Jesus dem-
onstrates the value and hai)pinessof' passion in its con-
trol and subordination to good, and that the grandeur
and power of intellect lies in the fear of God, which
is the beginning of wisdom, and in the love of God,
which is the end of wisdom. lie is " the way, the
truth, the life," and no other finger has ever pointed
us across the hills of time to the hills of eternity.
The way of the cross is the only way, the truth of the
cross is the only truth, the life of the cross is the only
lile, and nothing but Perfection incarnate could have
ever transformed the cross — the symbol of iuiman in-
iquity, human shame, and human punishment — into
an ensign of divine grace, divine honor, and divine
justification. The banner of the cross waves to-day
upon the walls of every city, unfurls to the breeze in
every clime, and dominates every emi)ire.

However hampered by the inlirmities of the flesh
or tempted by the devil, or mocked, opposed, and cru-
cified by the world, Jesus Christ lived and Avorked
and died like God; and it is the tcstimot y of such
infidels as Voltaire, Kousscau, Kenan, and others, that
that "young Hebrew " was above all the savans of the
world, that he outlived an I outdied its phi'osophers,
that, Avhatever nuiy be the surprises of the future, Je-
sus Christ, even as a man, could never be surpassed.
The world has produced some grand religious leaders,
but not one has ever conquoi-cd it. Xot one has ever
issued the universal proclamation, "Come," and not

rilK I'Kltl'KCT MODKL.

lai

Olio has over issued the universal commission, "rio."
Tlic reli«,Mon of Christ is u universal religion, im.ftin«--
a universal want and involviny- u universal dntv; and
it has never been hampered by racial, social, or na-
tional barriers. There have been such lights and lead-
ers in history as Confucius, jMohammed, Swedeiiborg,
the authors ol'lirahnuinism, JJuddhism, and 3Iornion-
ism; but the lights of Asia, of Europe, of America,
have all been extinguished in the "J/iglit of the
world." Jn their vagaries like eccentric comets, in
their flickering like stars, in their waxing and waning
like moons, they go out before the resplendent and
universal glow of the " Sun of Kightecmsness." iJeecii-
er said, grandly: « Christ declared without cpuUifica-
tion, 'I am the Light of the world.' AVhat thunder-
ous strokes shoukl beat down the audacious man who
should dare to say this I If Christ had not been the
absolute One, he would have said: 'lam the moon,
shining bv niglit; but my spoused one, the sun, from
whom \ eive my beams, shines by day.' "

Finally, how inspiring and transforming to stand
peri>etually before this Model, under the chisel of
truth, handled by the Holy Spirit! It has been often
said that a man instinctively drew himself higher up
when he stood before the celebrated statue of Apol-
lo Belvedere. I remember the first time I looked
upon the statue of AVashington hoAv my mind ran back
over his heroic struggle for the liberties of my coun-
try, how his calm and well-balanced genius nerved
and led a nation through the drea I ordeal of the Rev-
olution, how his lofty and unambitiou'^ spirit sacrificed
all for the untold glory of future generations, resist-
ing every temptation to power, and consecrating all
upon the altar of liberty and free government. My

138

THE PERFECT 3rODEL.

young heart thrilled with the inspiration of his char-
acter, and with nobler hoj)es and aspirations 1 turned
away toward the future and the work of life. But
what is AV'ashington by the side of Christ, the living
statue of Perfection before the gaze of every Chris-
tian and of the world? Are you sorrowful? Be-
hold the Man of sorrows, who bore your griefs and
who takes them away! Are you sinful? Look upon
him l)y whose stripes you arc healed. Are you
weary and heavy laden? There he stands, who said:

Come unto me, and

ye shall find rest."

Are you ignorant? He only is wisdom and truth.
Are you fettered and hampered? "If the Son shall
make you free, you shall be free indeed." Are you
proud and ambitious? "I am meek and lowly of
heart." Are you full of hate and malice and re-
venge? "Keturn good for evil, blessings for curs-
ings; love your enemies." Are you fearful and un-
believing amid the storms of temptation? "Be not
afraid; it is I;" "my grace is sufficient for thee."
Are you lonely and forsaken? " I will not leave you
comfortless." Are you poor? "All things are yours."
Are you guilty, ruined, lost in despair? Behold your
Kedeemer and Saviour, and think of Mary Mj.gdalene
and the thief on the cross and the woman taken in
adultery. Are you hungry, thirsty? Jesus is the
Bread, the Water, of life. Are you a child? "Suf-
fer the little children to come." Are you old and
gray-headed? "I will never forsake nor leave thee."
What is it that Jesus is not to, or does not for, the
saint or the sinner? lie is "all and in all," "Alpha
and Omega," the "Author and Finisher of our faith."
As our ]Model he combine* all excellence and glory.
He is the exhaustion of all goodness and greatness,

THE PERFECT MOJ>EL.

"our wisdom, righteousness, sanctilicatioii, and re-
demption;" and before this exquisite and living- statue
of every divine perfection every devout heart mav 1)0
transformed into the only image of God which can
be created. God exhausted himself in the master-
piece of wisdom and work when he sent his Son and
gave him to live and die for us that we might be his
masterpiece in the divine art of portraiture and scul])t-
ure for heavenly life and glory, to be forever exhib-
ited in the galleries of eternity, the finished work of
the Holy Si)irit. ~We are to sit together in heavenly
places at last in Christ Jesus, and we are, through
him, forever to stand to the " praise of the glory of
God's grace," the living and ])olished stones which
are to construct and adorn the glorious temple of
which Christ is the model, chief, elect, precious cor-
ner-stone. Let us stand before him, and be chiseled
after his likeness every day.

DELIRIUM TREMENS.

P the blackboard sketd, l)efore us we have the
ii^'-mS' ?'"'^"'''' ''^' ''' "^'"^ ''''^^' <^^^^ruu,i tremens. It

lll:£ . '■' ''"'' "^" ^''"^ '"^'"^ '^^''^'^^'^ ^^' -'Ji the ellects
fma "f ^ti-ono- drink, and it is one of the most un-
^h m ••'^^•"""table. This form of insanity is seldom
%J^ dan-erons to any but the victim himself, and
Ho.nct.mes in his terror and frig-ht he kills himself by
accident, if not by snicide. He sees all sorts of <rvL
tesque and horrible apparitions, and he seldom hSara
or sees any thino- pleasant. I once sa^y a man out in
bis yai-d shooting, squirrels, hnndre:ls of which he could
see 111 the trees. I saw another one nig-ht who could
see nothing- bnt rats running- over his bed, and ever

and AMth loathsome disgust he would rise from his
bed, tc.u. off his apparel, and shake off the lice An!
other I saw w1k> imagined ^hat his tongue was all
pierced with hsli-hooks, and he was continually try,
ns to pull hem out of his mouth, pitifully cryino- all

the while with his imao-ined iviin T i^,/ °

, »'"^'^ pain. 1 knew one man

wl„ never .,.w any thing; but monkeys sportinc- a,„

n„«,ned lie saw a monster ringtailod monkey, twen!

y feet l„gl„ coming down „,„ street toward Wm a„d

he jnmpcd out of a second-story window, breaking hi^

DELIUIUM TJJKMKNS.

mm. lie lay lor moiitlis upon wluit Hecined to he -i
bed of death, and the last ti.ne I sasv hi.n he was d „k
agum and on the way to the n.onkevs. Ot e '
nakes and hobgoblins and abnonnal n.,nste:'s and
housand-legs and hideous lunnan fbnns, nn. ihu
blooc^y, one-anned, one-leg,^.ed, without eyes and
Bon.etnnes .vithout heads. One poor IoIIoh'^ I 'k "^
died lor want of sleep, because ho said a cnn o '
dcvds ran up to his window and waked hin. up l v
t me he leil into a doze. The n.ost horrible, p'erha C
o all these apparitions is that of snakes, wh. the
ebnato inn^ines himself w.-eathed with ihen. an t t

bocb and wrapped around his neck, legs, and arms.

When we come to reflect that all this illusion-^this
die^idful delusion-is to the victim of leliriuui a per-
lect reahty, we can have some conception of the hor-
ror that seizes upon his mind. Ko persuasion, no ar-
gument, by the most confidential friend on earth, can
r-onvince him to the contrary. When he reaches a
lucid moment (and he often seems perfectly rational
about every thing else) ho maybe made to feel his
hanucination, which he distinctly remembers; but
while the paroxysm of insanity is upon him, this hell
of drunkenness is absolutely real and beyond the pow-
er of conviction to the contrary. Of all the pitiable
and helpless objects in the world it is a strong yet
powerless man tossed upon tlie waves of this wild sea
of self-wrought and sclf-responsible delusion. It
makes the man shudder with cold chills of horror, and
his hair to stand on end, who witnesses it, and the
most marvelous of all the enigmas of sin is that a vic-
tim could ever so recover from such a state of tor-

i 1

144

DKLIKIU.M THEMKNS.

ment and liny as to repeat this dreadful drama of in-
sanity and misery inexpressible and beyond tlip power
of conception. O mysterious deptlis of hell! O thou
weird and fiendish nature of sinl thy problem is not
solved in the madness of alcohol, but thy character is
most faithfully ])ortrayed and illustrated.

I have often thoughl that delirium tremens was one
of the best proofs of the existence of a hell, the ever-
lasting punishment of sin. The mind or heart lost
to all the influences of good, turned loose from all tlie
mooi'ino-s of virtue, and launched out upon the chaotic
deep of its own fury created within, is but the picture
of the lost soul cut loose from God and hope and ban-
ished from the influential presence of all help and re-
straint. Who can wonder at the Bible picture of a
flame that is never quenched, of a worm that never
dies, ever burning and gnawing into the vitals of a
lost and wrecked soul? and who can wonder at the
natural exhibitions of that remorse which gnashes its
teeth, weeps and wails, and curses God and self for-
ever? What must be the horrid visions of a world
"tumbled into anarchy," flitting with devils and hob-
goblins created to aggravate our torment, and accom-
panied by ten thousand creations of our own fancy,
arising from the crimes and follies of an ill-spent life?
Hell is a bottomless ])it, illustrating the downward
tread of human dd^^radation, but it is a lake of fire
and brimstone, representing the aggregation and the
aggravation of a wicked life coming up in every form,
the characteristic realizations of every shape of sin
and the outcome and last analysis of every develoj)-
ment of evil. IS'othing but the delirium of whisky
seems here below to foretaste, forecast, and prefigure
our state in hell, and it would seem that such a thought

J)KLIUIIJ.M TKK>fK\s.

145

would alarm ami awaken every victim of tliis vice to
fly from the wratli of God wroii-lit in the very l-ivvs
of our bein- thus violated. The terrors of conseiJnce
under other crimes, such as murder and seduction and
slander and other injuries to self and nejo-hbor, often
aro-ue the presence of God in the soul and (iod i„ the
punishment of sin. Men and women, the world ove.-
fly m vain from conscience and God; and often they
come back to confess, or commit suicide in order to
get relief from their ills. This is hell mirrored and
symboh/ed by the hand of God in the soul's inner
consciousness, in spite of all resistance by will or
counter-motive; but in the madness of alcoholic de-
lirium, both hell and the devil are drago-ed ..p by the
imagination, to pass in panoramic vision before the
senses and the intellections, otherwise normal and ra-
tional. Man's intuitions, in spite of infidelity, never
go amiss in the faithful interpretation of divine truth
and the soul's immortality and responsibility when
the test of sin brings the mind to conscious convic-
tion. We just know there is a God and a devil a
heaven and a hell, the need of a Saviour; and both
the good and the bad, the glory and the horror of eter-
nity, have their infallible foretaste, forecast, and coun-
terpart in the present life. The heathen believes and
knows this, and nothing bnt rationalism, blinded in
the blaze of revealed light, ever gets learned and sat-
isfied to the contriiry in a state of self-conceited and
Relf-righteous morality. The poor, degraded sinner
knows better, and sometimes T think the moralist is
the worst and in the worst condition of all the sinners
in the Avorld, unless it is the persistent and ruined
criminal who has lost all the elements of manhood
and passed the day of grace.

•I'

UC)

DKLIUIUM TUEMKXS.

Tlu! iiiituru ')[' deliriirm treinen.s is u luont interest-
ing study, and the comprehension of the subject might
scientifically be the means of deterring uuiuy a man
from strong drink. Alcohol has a great aflinity for
the brain, and it plays with harsh and dreadful note
upon the nervous system. In the brain of the drunk-
ard alcohol nuiy be found without change or as-
similation, and the l)rain being the very seat and cen-
ter of the nervous system, this nu)st delicate part of
our organism is directly and iiumediatoly affected by
this most p(nverful and dangerous stininlant, which
always intoxicates avIkmi used in sufHcient (piantities.
The nerves are thus paralyzed, and hence the brain,
having lost the medium by which it connnunicates
thought and enujtlou to the senses, becomes uncon-
scious in a state of intoxication. In the repeated ef-
fect of alcohol upon the nervous system, and espe-
cially when this long-repeated effect is suspended, these
pai-alyzed nerves begin to vibrate with a force Avliich
makes the whole body tremble; and in their disor-
dered and abnormal vibration they convey confused and
distoi-ted conceptions from the brain to the senses;
and hence, at intervals, the victim of habitual drink
unagines as pi-esent the hell of his vice in all the
horrid shapes by which the confused brain plays back
upon the vibratory nerves. Fancy and imagination
take the throne of judgment and reason, and in the
natui-e of things, somehow, hell takes the place of
heaven, the devil takes the place of God, and the weird
and hideous forms of sin, wrought out in our intuitive
consciousness, revel and romp through the chambers of
the brain. The victim of drink trembles like an aspen
and is delirious, and this is why this form of insanity
is called delmum tremens. Delirious trembling, accom-

])ELIUI1TM TKKMKXS.

panied l,y all sorts of dreadiul hallucinations whU^
jnterpretHin in the soul, illustrate its hell beyond l,y its
hell here, and set all the ibrces of darkness to run Ho
tln-ough (>ur chaot.c beino, AVhisky simply makes
chaos ol the nnnd and heart, intellectually and n.on.t
y, and delirnnn tremens adun.brates and intensilie.s
that hell to come by the hell ^vithin, winch dooms the
clnmkard Irom entrance into God's kino-dom

>Vhy vyill ye die? Young man, why will you
tanjper with the maddcnino- bowl? You think you
will never reach the limit of this fearful malady of
the besotted and ruined drunkard. This is one of the
delusive dreams of fascinating- whisky. You expect
to .stop, but every drunkard in hell, or on the way to
hell, once lifted that poisoned cl.alice of delusion to
his quivering lips. Lay not this flattering unction to
your soul, and do not help to lay it to the souls of oth-
ers by your example. Young men and women, let me
beg you to rise up in this your day and generation, and
SAvear allegiance to temperance and sobriety. Band
together to save the drunkards, and pray God's daily ■
curse upon the saloon, this CJorgon monster, this hvdra-
headed, hell-born and hell-fired s(>rpent, whicir lii'ts
his gigantic form and stretches his Titanic length
across the destinies of the fairest country ever blight-
ed beneath the sun. Mothers and fathers, teach your
children to hate the bottle, to tremble as thev pass the
bar-room, and to shudder when they see the\ ictim of
drink; and, little children here to-day, let me be- you
to never touch, taste, nor handle the accursed Ihin-
you call whisky. Think of the madmen made by the
bottle to-day, and remember that some of you, some
day, may become the raving maniacs I have de-
scribed—ragged, trembling, palsied, paralyzed, and

IIS

DKIJIIHIM 'lltK.MKNS.

lillcd with all the liorroi's of iu'li. cvt'ii bi'lorc you rciich
that (Irt'ad alxidc which the dninkard's (U'lii-iiiin lyp-
ifit'H. Will i>\\v of you ever bccouii; wuuh a busottrd
fiend? luall prohabilit y sonii' of llicso now innocent
youny ones will lill a drunkard's gravi', if they touch
the danmini'- cu|>. (io<l nitv the Nouuij' and liuidiT
heai't, and(T()d forbid the destiny i.s my luunble pi-ayer.
Lot me close with a picture drawn by J)r. 'I'alinai^e
on this subject : " (iod only knows what the drunkard
snU'ers. Pain (lli's on every ner\ e and travels every
muscU) rind yuaws every bone and burns with every
flame and slinks with every poison and pulls at him
with every tortiu-e. What re])tiles crawl over his
creeping- limbs! what fiends stand by his midnight
])ilIow! what groans tear his ear! what horrors shiver
thi-ou,i4h his soul! Talk of the rack, talk of the Jn-
quisition, talk of th.e funeral-pyre, talk of the crush-
ing Jugg-ernaut — he feels them all at once. ILive you
ever been in the ward of the hospital w'here these in-
ebriates are dying, the stench of their w^ounds driving
back the attendants, their voices sounding through
the night? They shi'iek, and they rave, and thoy
])luck out their hair by handsful, and bite their nails
into the quick, and then they groan and they shriek
and they blaspheme, and they ask the keepers to kill
them. 'Stab me; smother me; stran<^lo me; take the
devils olfme! ' O it is no fancy sketch! That thing is
going on in hos])itals — ay, it is going on in some of
the fiiu'st residences in every neighborhood on this
continent."

i^^^H

«T^I||F

■I

><.!

The LiGHTNinc-BUG ConvENTioN.

-4$ ''^^'"''"'"'''^ ^""" •"''^"^'P l^y a low, peculiar,
•V"" ' ''^'^''"'"' """^^'' ^^'"''''i iiKllfalc'd that a
|p^_^ ste.ltli}' nr( ossion (.1" sonu' kind was pass-
^ iIl^- iir .i..or. I soCtiy peeped out oC my front
\viud(.w, 'Ih.u I I)eliei(l a Ixidy of l)eings pjii.,^-
in<- txhnv^ with small hmterns dindy lighted, but each
iutenuittently growing hrighter oecasionallv than the
lantern .seemed to hurn. 1 heard little nnirnuirs of
"Protest "and a ''.Meeting" to be held dov, n in a
thicket close by, and,, quickly dressing myself, I fur-
tively stole out into the road and followed the lantern
concourse. Near a little sj)ring the crowd had gath-
ered, Avhen, after ])eering more closely throiigli the
dark, T diseovered thai it was a lightuing-hug con-
vention. They began to sparkle ])retly generally and
])rofusely, chattering about something which, for the
confusion of voices, I could not at first understand.
At last oni- of them arose with >; itely demeanor and
proposed to elect a chairman, who 'should call the
meeting to order and state the object of the assem-
blage, lie put in nomination a venei-able, old-fash-
ioned kind of fellow by the name of Tallowwick, who
was promptly elected by acclamation, and who, after
a few rauid flashes of his lantern, took his seat and

(151)

L k\ I

<\t'

\\ 1 '4

:.^

152

TIIK LIOHTXING-BUU COXVKXTFOX.

called the glimmei'ing assejnbly to orclei', at Avliicli the
iiuiltitude of lanterns seemed to llicker a little dimly,
as every one seemed to have his lantern shining- from
his coat-tail, and as they seemed all to sit down upon
their own little light.

In a brief speech the chairman' addressed the as-
sembly', as near as I can recollect, as follows: "Fel-
low-citizens of the lightning-bug fraternity: Every
lightning-bug- has his night, but he never has had his
day. ]n fact, he v;ants no day, as his glory is known
only by the night. Even hero we are often discount-
ed by the moon and the stars, and it would be better
for US and the wor..! if they could be blotted out, for
then our light could shine without diminution upon
the darkness of this benighted sphere. Few indeed
are the beclouded nights in which we can shine forth
in all the glow and splendor of our being to light the
nightly travelers on their way, who are guided by our
subcorporal scintillations. But this is not our great-
est difliculty and jirivation. "We have no chance at
the day at all. One-half of our useful existence is
blotted out altogether, while the other half is dimin-
ished and depreciated. The sun is our great enemy,
and hence the enemy of the world, and in the way of
our lig"ht, which is the glory of the earth. It is said
by John Jacob Jasper that the 'sun do move,' and I
believe it. lie comes forth daily, and only to put out
our light, and frtr many long, Aveary liours we have to
hide in the brush in order to Cbcape his useless? heat
and to shun the ininecessary intensity of his invidious
contrast. The object of this meeting is to protest
against his rising anymore, and to institute measures
which shall secure, for the good of the world, this
most desirable end. We may compromise with nai-

THE LIGIITNIXG-BUG C0XV*:NTI()\.

1 !">*

lire, if necessary, by u generous tolei-atiou of the moon
and the stars, as by the obliteration of tlie day Ave
would have more time for the disphiy of our li<>ht-
but the sun must be stopped. \Vc sliall no longer
stand his overshadowing- competition and divisioiroi
time so dear to the world on our account. The meet-
ing is now open, and the subject before you Ibr dis-
cussion, and 1 trust we shall ha- 3 unanimity and a
hearty co-operation in the decision of this momentous
question."

Amid a tremendous rattling of wings and flashing
of lanterns the chairman took Ins seat, when a I^Ir'.
Pettiflickcr sprung upon the limb of a small bush and
harangued the audience for a long while in the sever-
est denunciations of the sun, caricaturing especially
his spots, and at the conclusion of his vei-y able s[)eech
he moved the appointment of a connnittee of three of
the most enlightened lightning-bugs of the assembly,
who should draft resolutions expi-essive of the sense
of the august body. The chairman looked wisely
over the audience for a moment, and named the fol-
lowing committee: INFcssrs. Fizzleflash, Twinkleflit,
and Sparklctitter. He directed the appointees, with
solemn instructions, to bring in a jniper worthy the
dignity of the occasion, the subject, and the vast as-
sembly gathered, and the little committee lighted out
Into the darkness.

In the absence of the committee several distin-
guished bugs spoke for tlie good of the cause. Among
them was a very old and feeblv flickering bug by the
name of Scintihliput :MiniIuxglint vociferously called
for, and of great authority, as I judged by the length
of his name, the moss on his back, and the enthusiasm
he seemed to inspire. Jlo said that he had lived for

154

Till-: M<iHTNlN<i-Ul (i (OXVKNTIOX.

several weeks, aiul was well versed in the history of
the worlil. (ireece and l^)nie had never known of
such thinovs as gas and electric lig'hts, and so i
he could learn their inimitable civilizat

serionslv interfered Avith the li^ht
II

ar as
ions had never
ning-bug-'s vocation,
is ancestors could traverse the sti-eets of Babylon and
Nineveh, the greatest cities the world ever built, with-
out ever meeting the in-idious gleam of a single mod-
ern light, and every lightning-bug of that age could
walk in the nuirvelous light and liberty of his profes-
sion without interference or disparagement. Not so
now in these sad and degenerate days of the world's
weak and corrupted civilizations, which had of neces-
sity to supplement the hre-ily's natural and healthy
glow Avith a thousand artidcial illuminations, indica-
tive of and ]>reveuti\e of modern iniquitv and elfem-
iuacy. "But," said the old bug, ''this artificial sliam-
work of the age still leaves us the country to shine in.
AVe enjoy as yet the backwoods at night. We still
have an existence in spite of nu)dei'n pi'ogress, so
called, and in spite of the sun; and I am glad, al'ter
so many ages of ojipression and submission on our
pai-t, to see at last this noble movement in the direc-
tion of our liberty and the world's long-felt want.
^\ e are good enough for, and we are the necessity of,
the Avorld at all tiuies. I trust our able committee
Avill devise means — ''

Just at this moment the connuittee came in. All
Avas silence, but the little lanterns flashed with a fresh-
er gloAv. Many rose to their feet, and their coat-tails
twinkled aumzingly. The chairMum, Mr. I'izzleflash,
offered the folloAving preand)le and i-esolutions:

Whereas f.n- many ages, without formal protest, our light
has been extinguished by day through tlie imperious and Jes-

TllK LKiHTNING-HUG COJVEJJTION.

155

potic disn^gurd of thesuu; and whereas over Iiulf oi our glory
and influence has been lost to this sutl'ering and injured world;
ancl wliereas nature has allowed ar unjust discrimination against
us in the unequal distril)uti(-n of time and light by the sun; and
whereas we think there is no n. ccssity for the sun at all;' nnd
whereas we think, in tlie light of the lightning-bug, the sun is
a gj-i'ut humbug; therefore, be it

1. Jiesoh,'d, That we hereby enter our solemn jirotest against
the sun's ever rising and shining again.

2. That in case our nrotest agaitist tlie sun is no; favorably
received we liereOy in^atute and org.-nize an indignation me(^t-
ing, to be held at this place <.very night for one niontli until
we extort from Nature pioper consideration for our rights
privileges, and liberties, so long dLsparagcnl and trampled upon!

3. That in the event our protest and indignation fail a gen-
eral convention of all the lightning-bugs of this country and
of the world bo called tor the purpr.se of r.rganizing a general
revolution and ie])ellion against Nature.

4. That if revolution and rebellion fail, after having done all
we can to assert our rights and liberties for the good of the
world, then wo hereby pledge ourselves and our general fratev.
nity to permanently withdraw our light from the face of crea-
tion.

5. That a copy of these resolutions be sent to Dame Nature
and her favorite sun, if indeed he shall ever show his face again.

The resolutions were loiully received and adopted.
The President proceeded to address the assembly with
some closing- remarks. His coat-tail was fla-'.-ng
intei-mittentlv with much ardor and zeal. He began
a fierce and biUei- tirade against all other light but
the light of lightning-bugs; and 1 perceived that the
coa^-tails of all the audience l)egan to glow and flash
moic rapidly and intensely, reaching unusual brill-
iancy. Just then I noticed thac the day began to
break, and the bugs began to grow f. little restless and
uneasy. The speaker continued to orate, but his elo-
quence began to ooze out. The dawn grew on apace,

15()

'IlK M(;ilTXI\(;-MU{i CONVKN'I'ION.

V ■

and 1 not iced that the [)()t;kut-l:iiitiTiis iH'-^'aii to ^- row
dim and to <;-o out. Tiie ligiit of day kimlk'd brjohter
and l)riii;lit(.'i- still, and soon it was liurd to seo tlic an-
dient'c at ail, and llio orator's voico had entirely ceased.
Suddenly (he sun began to rise. Old Sol i)eei.ed
above the horizon, and his broad and luminous shoul-

le way and pitched the

ders shoved the mists out of tl

clouds in every direction. lie rolled in g-randeur
abovt' the east, and in my ra[)turu 1 had ibrgotten the
lightning-bug convent ion entirely. 'l'hinkingoI"where
1 was and why I was there, I tin-i>' ' agi-.in to see, and,
behold, there was nothing lelt of :,ie assembly at all.
There v.as not a lightning-bug to be seen; every lan-
t<'ni had been extinguished, and not a voice was heard.
They had all lied; at least I could not see one of them.
The lightning-bug assend)ly had been dis-SOL-vcd

This was a (iream I had once, in my imagination, in
a certain t(wi> where it was proposed to introduce the
])ublic school system, and a 'ot of the ohl fogies got to-
gether and jirofesfed tv^iun^ttho movement. The i)ublic
schools were introduced all the same, and the old fogv
convention never met any more. The same dream
has often occui-red to me Avhen 1 have heard of the
liquor nu n gathering in convention to oppose the tem-
perance cause. riieir light is made of alcoholic fire,
and it generally shines in their stonmehs, something-
like the lightning-I,nig\s; and their protests against
the rising sua of the great temperance reform A\-ill ul-
timately result about like the resolutions of the light-
ning-bi;g convention. The lightnir,g-bug fraternity
represents the universally small critic and persecutor,
and every rishig genius and rising cause of truth and
rightconsness has hcen opjiosed and protested by these
diminutive midnight illuminators. Galileo and "Coper-

L*x

■! i

THE uainsisu-nvu (oxvextiox.

nieus and IJanoy and Mor.su and Fulton and Stephen
Bon un;l ^'ol-nL'u. and >Va.s].in,ton were all p. I

ininaueh ol discovery, nvention -.iwl .>..

bcmbled aomnst Jiini; but flic S,,„ ,>f .• i.

I ' ^ ' "1' <*' 1 liihteousncss

]^h I. a., dissolving all the conventions of darkness
tl e deyd ever assembled with his ignes^/aM or his fire
. anu brimstone.

There win be lightning-bug. conventions till the
endoi tune; but the sun will nevertheless continue
to rise and roll on in the grandcn- of his luminous
circuit iNothmg can prevent ignorance and nrei-
udice from opposing every form of truth and rl-ht-
eousness, and Bclflshness and ambition will conthiue
to suppress the light which shines against human
pride and interest. One part of the world blindly
lights against (Jod and progress, while the other know-
ingly and willfully opposes whatever crosses the path
ot vile as])iration and self-seeking enterprise We
see this sad fact illustrated every day in the methods
and .'ichemes of politics, business, social convention-
alities, infidelity, and vice. Partisan zeal opposes
even the good in its ojiponents; trusts and monopolies
seek to kill down competition in weak and strugglino-
enterprises for the good of u country. Ingersollism
fights God, aristocracy crushes doAvn upon poverty
and all the revolutionizing ideas of right and liberty
which the struggling masses assert and win; and the
myrmidons and minions of vice invent and put in op-
eration every means to circumvent and destroy virtue
and good. But in the familiar language of Bryant:

IGO

TIIK LIUIITXING-UUG COXVEXTIOX.

Trvitli, crusluMl to c'nrtli, slinll rise ngaiu:
Tho eternal yenrs of God are licrs;

"While error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies among her worshipers.

^ The sun " do move," and Avill rise; and all the light-
ning-l)uj«- conventions in the Avorld may j-rotest and
oppose in vain. Truth and i-ighteousness grow )x\st
by conflict with error and iniquity, in the long- run.
Their history is a long series of rises and declines, but
ever rising higher al)ove tlie undulations of decay and
opposition at every successive step of progress toAvard
the mountain-top of time and glory. Truly the " eter-
nal years of God " arc theirs. They poLsess within
themselves the inherent element of development and
of revolution against inertia and corruption, and they
mount higher at every stage of conflict with every
opposing element of falsehood and evil, even when
for long periods the dark night of defeat and despair
has seemed to settle upon the fields of contest. The
deluge came, and swept away an old world to start a
new one. Jesus came, and turned the aa orld upward
to God from its universally downward career in the
height of civilization. The Reformation came, and
reversed the shadowy doom of medieval superstition.
Jesus will come again to lift the last dark decline of
the world's loftiest leap in civilization into the glory
of the millennium. The devil, with his last lightning-
bug convention an-ayed " against the camp of the
saints," will after all be "loosed for a little season,"
and then heaven Avill come down to earth, and God
shall dwell among men.

POT CALLING KETTLE BLACK.

->♦<-►-

Wm^r^ (lay the cook uciit out of llie kitolien to
'^^XM '»^ gone upon a visit to somu; of her iici..!,.

WN^'^^?' ^'"'"^ '''''^' '"**' ''''^^''' ^''"'^ ^'"'^' "'■'^^'' '"'"^
MiW ^^'■^''***^'*^^"'"'**^'''"'i»'l rul)I)c(I (lour over iiis lace,

pfr;; l<><^l<f^(l into the -la^s, and thou-hliiinisoli'liand-
y^^ sx.uie. Xot to l)e outdone, tlie ketl Ic arose and
dressed and did likewise, also elaiinin- beauty and
comeliness. AVhercat the pot ])egan to call the ket-
tle black, and the kettle -row furious and steamed at
the nose, while the pot coniinued to lauo-li j,nd to
mock. Such was the confusion and excitement that
all the cookin-^- utensils became involved, skii)i.ed and
danced, and took part, some on the one side and some
on the other. The tongs, the shovel, the w a tile-iron,
tlx" spoon, the dish-jjau, the stove— all assumeil vari-
ous airs and ^i;rimaces, and became involved in the
S-enei-al row. About this time the cook returned, and,
hearing the nois(>,rus]ied into the room Mith ])er broom,
and broke up the disturbance. The pot ri?!n-ned ti
Ills i)Iace in the corner, the kettle to his ]> -iEion on tha
stove, and all the smaller fry hunted their iiomes under
the silencing lirush of the cook. A severe lecture fol-
lowed, in which the cook taught the moral that one
man as black as black could be should not call an-
other black no blacker than lie. The pot was very

(163)

ltkf\

*'!

164

POT CAI,LIX<i KKITI.E MLACK.

much asliaiiu'd uiid robiikud iiiider the full conscious-
ness of his blackness and pivsuniptlon, and the ket-
tle, thou^^h vindicated, felt his blackness still and kept
his place.

This falile finds an il' istratlon in a striking- text of
the word of CJod. Jesus said to his <lisciples: "Jud*,^'
not, that ye be not jud«»-ed. For with what jud<>inent
ye jud<,a', ye shall be Judged: and with what meas-
ure ye mete, it shall be measured to you ag-ain." The
Ai)ostle Paul said to the Romans: "Therefoi-e thou art
inexcusable, () man, whosoever thou ail that jud«,''est:
for wherein thou Judo'est another, thou condenTnest
thyself; for thou that jud<,^est doest the same things.
. . . And thlnkest thou this, O man, that judgest
them which do such things, and doest the same, that
thou shalt escape the judgment of God? . . . Thou
therefore; which teachest another, tcachestthou not thy-
self ? thou that preachest a man should not steal, dost
thou steal? Thou that sayest a man should not com-
mit adultery, dost thou connnit adultery?" Alas!
alas! here is the great sin of the world. We judge
others, no guiltier than we, of the same things of which
we are guilty ourselves, and it is oftenest the case that
the guiltier a man is himself, the more condemnatory
he is of others even far less guilty than he. This is
the pot calling the kettle black; and of all the beings
whom God will judge most harshly it will be the man
who condemns in others that of which he himself is
most guilty.

Herein arises one of the peculiarities of human nat-
ure—nay, one of the mysteries of poor ftdlen man.
It is a marvelous inconsistency, an unaccountable con-
tradiction in judgment and morals, that the pot as
black as midnight should call the kettle black; and

I'OT CALLIN(i KKTTI.K ULACK.

J Of)

yet notliin^- is more connnoii tlinii to Iicar wicked pco-
l)k' — i)c<)i)K; not even Iryiii*^- to cover tlicii- sins under
the garl) of liypocrisy— calling their neighbors names
and exposing tlieir sins. This is not only ho wJiere
the sins are dillerent, but where they are the same.
The drunkard abuses the drunkard, the thief decries
the thief, the slanderer scandalizes the slanderer. It
seems perfectly consistent to some i)eo[)le to berate
the sins of others when their own sins are not of the
same chui-aeter. Even here it would seem that Jus-
tice and decency would dictate charity, whicli nays,
Though your sins diller in caste, they agree in quality;
but when two men guilty of the same thing, in quan-
tity, quality, and character, judge each other, it seems
nnaccountable. What is the philosophy of it? The
problem can only be solved in the shameless presump-
tion and l)lindnesa of sin itself, and tlie fact argues
how little people stndy themselves in the light of them-
selves, much less in the looking-glass of God and of
their neighbors. How can a man who nndei-stands
and appreciates his own iniquity find fault with other
people? The midnight veil of selfishness is the worst
form of sin's blindness, and no man can ever rise
above this most criminal inconsistency until examina-
tion of self, in the light of justice, leads him to see
himself as God and others see him.

O wad some power the giftio gie us!
I have often thought of Shakespeare's maxim:

Forbenr to judge, fur we are sinners all.
And the great poet, often so profonndly philosophic-
al and theological, here agrees with Christ and Paul.
How few ever adopt the golden rule: "Whatsoever
ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so

1G6

POT CALLIXa KETTLE Bl.AC

likewise unto tlicin! " IV we Icved CJocl with all the
heart, and our neighbor as ourselves, if we loved (iod
supremely and our neighbor unselfishly, we should
have no sin to see in ourselves or others; butslnee wo
nre ''sinners all," and our lov-j so imperfect, we could
at least adopt the golden ]-ule. Hon few, indeed,
.■n-e there who -thi.dc no evil," believe all things,
hear all things, and cover tiieir neig-hbors' sins with
the mantle of ciiurity and sympathy! i love that old
stanza of Pope :

Tctu'h iiio to foci !iiiotlH>r'.s woe,

To hide tlio huilt I soe;
That mercy I to (others kIiow,

That mercy sliow 1o me.

The sin of harsh judgment and of unfriendly criti-
cism can never be cured in any man or woman so
Jong- as lie or she is lynx-eyed fouard neighbor and
mole-eyed to self. Every one of us should i-emember
111 the familiar exprcssi(m of Shenstone that ^'a man
has generally the g-ood or ill qualities Avhicli he utti-ib-
iites to mankind;" and when we judge others we
should ever ask the question propounded by the ^reut
poet, *=

HoM- would you l)e,

Tf Ho, will, ]i is fit tlio top of judgment,

Should judi^'o you as yim are ?

This reminds us of the sad and awful fact that we
shall be judged as we judge. The standards we raise
lor others will be the standard bv which God will
judge us. As Jiiehelieu sr.ys in that famous ,,lay,

VV ise judges ai-e we of each other! " It is generally
true that we judge righteously of others' si'^is ^Ve
go to the standard of (Jod when we see others' faults-
and It is up to this standard that God will hold us'

POT CAUASa KKTTI.K HLACK.

1G7

A man casts off his evvmg wile, turns his fallen sister
froLi his tlooi-, forsakes liis mother and his chinohter
in vice; and he thinks liimself perfectly justitied in
consio-uino- to disgrace and abandoiunent tlie flesh of
his llesh, and the bone of his bone: but lei him reuiem-
ber, il he has any sin himself, Ihat so God will a])an-
don hnn at the judg-nient; "for we must all appear
belore the judgment-seat of Christ; that eveiy one
may receive the things doue in his bod v, according to
that ho hath doiie, whether it l)e good or bad." llow
many men I have heard to say, 'Mf there was no hell,
1 would give a considerable sum to have (me made;
there arc some uien I think ought to go to hell.''
Even the nmn who thinks there ought to be no hell
ior himself thiidvs ti.ere ought to be one for somebody
olse; aiid just what he judges of others he will share
for hiuiself, if lie lives aud dies in sin. How often the
legislator who nuikes the law, how often the judge and
the jury who execute it, are guilty of the vei-y ci-inies
their laws condemn ! I'he lawyer who prosecutes his
victim before the court, the very complainant who
pi-esses the defendant, are i-eekiug in the xtvy sin
they arc seeking to condemn and punish. ^J'he pot
is calling the kettle black; and, worse than all, in
the light of his own blackness and guilt he is seek-
ing to inflict the p.,nalty of his «,wn crime upon
another, ^fhis is all just aud right as a matter of
vmdicatiug human justice l)efore the civil courts of
our country; but the standard lifted here will be
the standard lifted before that dread bar where there
Will be no advocate to plead, where no plea will
lodge, and where no witness but the self-accusin<>-
conscience wili appear, I'he golden rule will be re^
versed there; for as we have done to others it will be

108

POT CALI.IXa KKTTLE BLACK.

clone to us, tlie measure ^^'-e haAc ineted out to oth-
ers shall be meted to us again.

Worse than all, man is so often unjust in his jiulg--
. ment towai-d others. The pot sometimes calls the
pitcher black, and it is mean enough for him to call
the kettle black. This is a Avorld of injustice, and if
it Avere not true, in the language of a beautiful writer,
that "the injustice of men subserves tlic justice of
God, and often his mere}'," this life would be the
most miserable of all existence to a large number of
people. But few of the unjust ever got justice at the
hands of the law; and the suifercrs of injustice and
persecution have no other vindication this side of
heaven, Avhere "sits," as Shakespeare says, "a judge
that no king can corrupt." God forbid that I should
ever lie down and die Avith an unjust judgment lUire-
pcnted aiul unamended; and let mo ever adopt tho
maxim of Mason Avhile I live; "Judge thyself Avith a
judgment of sincerity, and thou Avilt judge others Avith
charity." Tho older I get the more charitably I try
to j udge. I Avant to leave myself in the hands of God,
not to jiKtge, but to show me mercy, through Ilim Avho
suft'ercd judgment in my stead; and I Avould gladly
and willingly leave the Avorst human being at the feet
of Jesus. I am glad the thief Avcnt from the cross to
paradise; audi am Avilling to have universal salvation
true, if God Avills to save all, through faith, by the
blood of Jesus. Fortlie purpose of social purity, and
in the vindication of just standards, aa'c must "judge,"
here bcloAv, "the tree by its fruit;" but let me leave
the finjil judgment of myself and of my fellow-men to
God. I wish all could be saved, if it Avere possible;
and I shall never- rejoice, even in the judgment Avhich
condemns a soul to hell, although I shall say "Amen I

I »

POT CA'.LIX<i KKTTLK HLACK.

100

to every rigliteous decision of God. " You shall have
justice, Put," said a lawyer to his client, Avhen about
to be arraio-ued before the court for some crime he had
committed. "And, by faith, that's not fwhat I'm af-
ther," said the Irishman. I am not after justice when
I stand before God, except satisfied justice in Jesus
Christ who paid my debt, in vindication of God's law.
I am after mercy. There is not a day nor an hour
nor a moment upon which I could stand for the per-
fection essential to etei-nal life and gloiy. Christ is
"my rigliteousness," and I only wish every human
bein- could say us much; and upcm this consideration
I want to base, first of all, my charity foi- all men.
God forbid that I should be charging others with the
sins I possess, or with sins at all, so long as T am as
guilty as they. Much more, keep me from scandaliz-
ing those pui-er than myself— not only calling the ket-
tle black, but calling the pitcher black. We all have
to be saved from sin, from the same hell, alike; and
if there are any beings in the universe who ought to
be charitable to each other, they are /it/man beino-s.

Truly docs Peter urge: "Above all things hu\e fer-
vent charity among yourselves: for charity [love]
shall cover the multitude of sins." I love to think of
Shakespeare's man who

Jlath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity.

And never did Burns sing sweeter than when he said,

Then gently scan your brother man.

Still gentler sister woman;
Though they may gang a kennin wrang,

To step aside is human.

Of course there is a mock charity which sympa-
thizes with wrong and which rejoices in iniquity, in-

IS*

!
f

.1'

it.!

170

POT CALLING KEVTLi:' JJLACJC.

stuiid of rejoicing i!i the truth. ''A God all nicrcj,"
said Young, "is a Ciod unjust;" and what is true of
God in this respect should be true of us. "Nothino-
emboldens sin so much as mercy," said the "liard oi
Avon." It must be a very indillerent naUn-e, or one
contradictorily good and evil at tlie same time, to al-
low charity to subvert justice, Avhere justice vindi-
cated is mercy in the end; but at the very ])est every
poor /mmaa being should temiKn- justice with, mercy
in every essential decision ami dealing Avith his fel-
low-man. It nmy be very trite and conunon to re-
peat it, l)ut Shakespeare is next to the ?5ible on this
point when he makes l»ortia speak to Shylock in the
following language:

The quality of mercy is not strained;

It droppeth as the gentle dew from heaven

Upon tlie place beneath; it is twice blessed:

It blessetli liim that gives, and him that takes.

'Tis mightiest in tlie mightiest: it becom(>s

The thronO>d monarch better tlian his crown:

Ilis scepter shows the force of temporal power,

The attriVmte to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.

It is an attribnte to God hims(>If,

And earthly i>ower doth tlien sliow Jikest God's,

When mercy seasons jnstice. Therefore, Jew, '

Thongli justice be thy plea, consider this,

Tliat in the cause of justice none of ns

Should see salvation: itr do pniij for mercij,

And tliat same prayer doth teach ns all to' render

The deeds of mercy.

I .•#

•• -MiS

Sowing and Reaping Wild Oats.

* (.•

— •^•♦' —

^ll.E i)icturo illustrates a hold and vig-oroiis
^^^ yoiitli starting- out in lil'e to sow wild oats
uj)()n the tield of his existence. Eveiy man
has a field to sow, to cultivate, and to reap;
nd he will plant it with good or bad seed, and
at hest he will have some tares among- the Avlieat,
however he sows. Death starts njjon the track of this
wild and vicious young man, and folloAVS him idly
through the ])eriod of his lusty planting, and when he
turns in middle life or old age to reap his crop death
still follows and helps to gather his sheaves for the
grave and the judgment. Sometimes the harvest is
reached sooner, sometimes later; but surely the har-
vest Avill be reaped, and the grave will be reached,
as seen in the second ])icturc. ITow true it is of
thousands :

Sowing the seed of a ling'ring jjain.
Sowing the seed of a maddened brain,
Sowing tho seed «if a tarnished name,
Sowing the seed of eternal fdiame —
O what) shall the harvest be?

This is the crop which the yoimg man reaps who
sows the field of life with wild oats; and sometimes
he begins to reap almost as soon as he begins to sow.
The crop will coi-respond with the seed sown, and al-

(173)

174

SOWl.Xa AM) IMOAIMNG WJLIJ OATS.

l"1.

thouoh, as ill iill plaiUiii- ^veiy Becd does lu.t spi'in
up i.nd iiialiiiv iui-ilic liiirvost,3ot it is tn.c- Hint in
tins CToi. Uic seeds .sown will as nearly all eoinc up and
be harvested as any other eroj) Avliicli a man ever
planted.

Tiie Jiihle teaehes the truth on this snbjeet with all
its W(.ndciTul eoiiiinon-sense aeeiiraey: " Whatsoi'ver
a man sowetli, that shall he also reap. For he that
soweth to his llesh .shall ol' the llesh reaj) eorrujition;
but he that soweth to the Spirit shall oC the Sj)irit
reap lile everlasting-." Of this, Paul says, let no man
bo " deceived," for '• ( iod is not nioclsed." If we had
no Bible, in the nature of thino-s tliis text would be
true, Jbr we cannot sow -without reaping, nor can we tail
to n-a]) III Ihnl the cro]) we sowed, or else reap the kin-
dred consecpiences oi- i)unishnient attached to the
planting- of* evil iijxm tlie fields of life. However
shrew d we may l)e, however much we may cover our
tracks from others, however we may imagine ourselves
fortified against results, hoAvever we may conceive
that (iod has forgotten or that his law has been healed
of its violations by time, or that nature has outgrown
its evil crop by ji bi'tter culture — it is nevertheless true
that wc shall reap fhd we have sown, either in kind,
consequence, or pnnishment. ^Ve cannot eradicate
the scars upon conscience, the stains upon the heart,
the blunt U])on sensibility; nor can avo recall the
blight and the ruin Ave have inflicted upon others.
Keputation may be restored or character rei)aired be-
fore men; but crime's consequences and God's pun-
ishments aAvait, in some form, e\ en the man convert-
ed from the error of his soAvir.g-. God can forgive
our record, but he never i-everscs it; and he does not
avert, even for the saint, at least the temporal resnlts

I, ' it'

HOWIXa AND REAPIXfi WILD OATS.

177

of tlepnivity aiul wrong-, if lie once wasted the fields
of life by Kowing- wild oats, lie siifl'ers, tliougli saved,
much loss even in eternity as well an nuich sorrow in
time.

But little is required to illustrate these truths stated.
If 1 wreck my physical constitution, shatter my mind,
harden my sensibilities, reg-eneratiou cannot repair the
loss, nor can it rid me of the ' s iindconsef|'ionces

of irreparable evil ui)()n myseiL auu others. Keligion
may divert my soul into new and higher channels of
life, make me hopel'nl and hap|)y in a iew of eternity,
but it cannot restore imbecility and diIa[)ldation, nor
pluck up the roots of bitterness sown in my carnal
nature. Samson Avas snsfained by < iod's grace to the
dying honr, and lie died <'in the faith;'' but grace
could not give back his lost character nor his lost
eyes, nor relieve him of the miseries of his sitnation
and the pangs of his folly, God forgave David's sin
according to grace, befoi-e Xathan put his parable,
but he did not relieve David from the bitter tears of
repentance nor save him irom the life-long curse of
his sin, which fell in kind and kindred consccpiences
upon his own head and house. Ilaman must hang
on his own gallows erected for Mordecai. lie that
digs a ditch for others must himself fall into it. You
ruin some man's lauiily, and some nuin willrnin yours.
Drag down some innocent victim to ruin, and some-
body will di-ag you or yours down. At all events,
the consequences or the penalty of your sins some-
time, s(miohow, somewhere, will be sure to follow
you, converted or unconverted. " A\' liatsoever a man
soweth, that shall he also reap." Jacob cheated Esau,
and Laban cheated him. lie deceived his father with
the skin of a kid in order to get Esau's blessing, and .

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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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178

SOWING AND KEAPJNfcf WILD OATS.

his sons deceived him with the blood of a kid, into
wliich tliey luul dipped Joseph's coat of many colors
and he went down to the grave Avith sorrow and gray
hairs. " Few and evil have been the days of the
years of my life," he said, before he came to die. " Be
not decei\ed, God is not mocked; " and be sure your
sin will find you out and follow you up. God and
nature are sui-e to get e\en with us for every violation
of law, i)hysioal, mental, or moral. Stick your finger
in the fire, and you will get burned. Even grace does
not escape the reign of law as a rule of the present
life, hoAvever it may take us from under the law for
the life which is to come. God's hand is olten ^-u-
ier here below ui)on his own children than upon the
wicked. Alas for such men as ]Moses and Saul and
Samson and David and Solomon and Jacob when they
sin!

Another thing; Our reaping is always more abun-
dant than our sowing. If a nnin sows wheat, he gets
wheat. Cabbage brings cabbage, and mustard pro-
duces mustard; but a good sowing bi-ings forth some
thirty, some sixty, some a hundred-fold more than
the sowing. One glass of whisky leads to the drink-
ing of a hogshead full and a life-time of debauchery,
shame, and misery. One little theft ruins a whole ca-
reer; one indiscreticm destroys a reputation; one lust-
ful kiss or embrace leads to the ruin of a life-time of
virtue and honor. A little leak in the hulk of char-
acter sinks the ship of life in the mid-ocean of great-
ness and renown. « He that sows to the wind shall
reap the whirlwind." ?i"one can tell what one little
seed planted in evil may bring forth in the long run
of time. The young clerk stole a nickel, and ho final-
ly goes to the penitentiary for embezzling the funds

sowixci AXD kr:apixg wild oats.

179

of a bank. Benedict Arnold died the traitor of his
country, and his terrible end may be traced to the be-
ginning' of crime in youth. George Washington died
the father of his country, and he Avould not lie when
a little boy. What consequences spring from small
sources! The oak comes from an acorn, and the ]Mis-
sissippi flows from ten thousand little spring-s. Stu-
pendous evils develop from Avild oats scattered upon
the soil of vicious hearts, destroying- often the grand-
est and mightiest lives. Solomon the wisest, David
the best, Samson the strongest, fell by sowing to lust;
and the consequences — personally, socially, national-
ly, religiously — have never yet been outgrown. Thou-
sands have gone, are still going, to hell as they stum-
ble over the sins of these men; and if they had to be
judged apart from saving grace, according to their
sins and the consequences of the same, their doom
Avould be the most fearful and damnable of all men
who perhaps have ever lived.

Again, we are much longer reaping than we are
sowing. If we reap in kind or kindred consequences,
if we always reap more than Ave sow, it is also true
that the harvest, including its growth and culture, is
far more protracted than the season of sowing. It
doesn't take long to sow a crop of wild oats, but O
how long we ai-e in reaping tlie siq)erabundant crop!
In fact, the lost sinner, dyhig in unbelief and impeni-
tence, never does get through the harvest; and often
the child of God reaps and reaps on to the day of his
death, even down to old age. Diseased habits early
formed become constitutional and second nature, and
sometimes they have paroxysms of return in the best
of men, tilling life Avith temptations and miseries un-
told. Many a Christian totters to the grave imder

180

SO WIXU AND KKAPING WILD OATS.

the ills Of early dissipation, aiul jnaiiy a one lives in
hfe-lon- warfare with old sins Avhich make existence
useless and unhappy, and Avhich iiiio-ht have been
avoided by early conversion and enlhire. One-half
of many a Christian's life is lost trying t<» keep down
the sprouts which sprin- from the roots of bitterness
and woe grafted by early culture and habit in evil
and nothing short of death and eternity will put an
end to an otherwise needless struggle. It takes a Ion-
time to repair, if we ever do, an injury done to our
fcarlully and wonderfully made being, and nothino-
short of God's grace can ever finally i-Jd us of the
consequences of sowing to sin- and the devil. The
harvest, however, we are certain to reap sooner or
later, here or hci-eafter, in some form or other- and
the most fearful part of the sinner's curse consists, if
cut off in final impenitence and unbelief, in havino-'to
gather the everlasting harvest of his wild sowing?
_ There is a diabolical argument that every man, some
time m life, must sow his wild oats. This is the sub-
tlest he of the devil. How few have ever sown to sin
m age who did not sow in youth! The middle-aged
and the old occasionally lust, eiube?, murder,*^il-
thoiigh life behind them seemed got. These men
sometimes go from the church and the Sunday-school
to the peniventiary and the gibbet, but generally they
have been sowing to sin in secret. The tree has grown
up and grown old with a rotting defect in the hidden
heart, and though externally symmetrical and beauti-
ful, the mighty oak would fall of its own weio-hl
against the blast of temptation. Ko, no; they Avho
do not sow wild oats in youth, they who sow to the
Spirit in early life, seldom sow to evil in age, and sel-
dom ov never fail or fall.

SOWIXG AND HEAPING AVI LI) OATS.

181

Children, young men, and maidens, why not sow
nmo to the Spirit, and reap lilb everlasting? " Remem-
ber now thy Creator in the days of tliy youth, while
the evil days come not." They who seek God early
shall find him, and they that sow early to Cod shall
reap early and late and always the harvests certain to
spring up in life and upon the evergreen fields of
eternity. Lay up your treasure in heaven, where the
bank never fails and where the cashier never steals,
and where the gold never cankers. Instead of death
upon your track, the angels of (Jod will camp round
about you upon the fields of life, and when the sowing
and the reaping are finished these angels will gather
you and your harvest home. Cast your bread u[)on
the waters of eternity, and it will be forever gathered
in the endless rewai-ds of Him who numbers the hairs
of your head, and who honors even a cui) of cold
water ^^iveu in charity. Make not the field of life a
drear desert, sown with inertia and ease, nor make it a
wilderness of woe, planted with infidelity and immo-
rality. Make it a beautiful garden-spot, scattered with
the seeds of kindness, blooming with the flowers of
happiness, fragrant with the perfume of fruitfulness,
rich with the harvests of eternal life. Faith alone
stamps the soul with immortality, and faith alone can
make immortal the character and conduct of life. All
else shall perish. Shakespeare Avill go out of print,
and Homer shall be forgotten. He that sows to the
flesh and dies with his dread crop on hand writes his
epitaph upon his own tomb: " I had better never been
born." God forbid that one of you should thus sow,
to thus reap. And let me beg you, if you hpve al-
ready begun thus to sow, stop your planting t. -day.
Erelong it may be too late to stop, and already you

inl

f I

182

SOWING AND REAPING WILD OATS.

have sown enough in evil to terrify your soul could
you only see the harvest you are to reap. Kemember,
before it is too late, the awful admonition: " Whatso-
ever a man soweth, tkat shall he also reap." Sow to
the Spirit. " Sow in the morn thy seed, and at eve
withhold not thy hand:" and remember that though
you go out sowing in tears, you shall return reaping
with joy, if you sow to God. Sow early, and stop not
to watch the clouds, nor to see whether this or that
shall prosper. Put your hand to the plow, and stop
not to look at the long row behind you till you take
oiit your horse at the end of life's furrow. Then it
will be sundown here below and sunrise hereafter, and
there, upon the everlasting fields of glory and green-
ness and beauty, you will luxuriate in the rich fruit-
age, fructuating still of every seed you have sown to
good and to God.

PROFANITY.

• *->^<-

IV the cut wliidi illustrates this subject you
iliscovcr a facial dcliueatiou of the profane
swearer. He looks something- like ji rav-
1^ in<^ inachnaii, with evci-y fierce passion in
^ conihined and collusive ])lay upon his features.
r 'l 'l^ His eyes Hash fire, and from his quivering- and
thundering lips the forked lightnings, in livid and
lurid horror, ])lay in every direction. A stream of
green, red, and blue slaver flows Irom his mouth down
upon his bosom below, like a Ycsuvian gush of molt-
en lava — hot, hissing, crackling and poisonous —
indicative of that stream of depravity which belches
from his heart, and which burns and hardens and in-
crustates around it. I have stood and looked on just
such a man full many a time, and sometimes I have
thought some of them looked . - -e like a slabbering
mad-dog than a human madman. I saw a country-
man one day, coming into town with an overburdened
team which stalled in the mud. He began to beat
and curse his mules; and finally, when intermingled
beating and swearing would do no good, he threw
down his cudgel, stood aside, and let loose a slabber-
ing stream of profanity which no pen or pencil could
paint for vicious and acrimonious blasphemy. He
damned his mules, damned his luck and his fate,

J8<>

I'HOFAMTY.

(liinnuMl tluMVoria by sections; niciv llian nil, dainncd
the road and (he overseer tliat worked il ; di

mined ins

own soul, and in tlie name ol' Aiiiii<>li(y (^od 1

lanined hiinseli' and all t

o an Gverlastnii'-

liel

After

awhile his lurid and tiiiinck'rous artillery of oaths snh-
sided a little, and with occasional shots and salvos lie
proceeded to unload and reload his wa<,^on, thus extri-
catin<,'- his abused and exhausted team, after a full dis-
play of moral insanity, and one of the most futile and
useless elforts 1 ever beheld to move a team by the em-
phasis of profanity, lie drove away mad and mutter-
in-,^ still, not a whit wiser or better than he was before.
Trofaiie swearin<i^, takin-^- the name of (iod in vain,
and in connection with the vilest and most dennncia-
tory oaths or maledictions, is a stnpendous and awful
vice. What multitudes are guilty of it! Jt is uin-
versal, and without exception of classes pervades the
masses of mankind. Hesi)ectable men, and women
too — often iiKMubers of Churclies — are addicted to this
execrable habit. Men called gentlemen, Avomen called
ladies, pollute their lips and defile their hearts with
l)laspIiemous profanity. Of all the sins against God,
in some respects tliis is the most towering and direct-
ly offensive, since the Jianie of (iod is made the edge
and the hilt and the point of this })oisonou8 and acrid
sword of the tongue. It is wonderful, often, that God
does not strike down the blasphemer of his sacred
name; and there are instances on record where the
profane SMcarer, cursing all things and even his God,
fell dead in his tracks upon the s]Kit he blasted
with his ])rofanity. T knew an old farmer once, fear-
fully addicted to this habit. Every thing went wrong
with him: he was always ill, surly, and cross-grained.
He would on the slig-htest occasion burst out with a

-.11

IMtOFAN'TV.

187

vohiuie of outliH, iind (lining- dry or (lr(juj,dity weather
ho would go out and look ut tlic cloudn and curse
mid Hwear because it did not rain. One (hiy he was
imssin«j through his field, and a stoi in which had prom-
ised j-ain was l)lowin<ji; over. The old man stopped
and set down the a.K which he had on his shoulder,
and hi'gau to swear. ]t was hard to tell which had
the advantage in electi'ic and Hashing pyrotechnics,
the old man or the thundering and liglitening clouds.
At all events, as the old Cellow got through his ebulli-
tion of blasphemous wrath, and put his ax npou his
shoulder to stai't home, the steel attracted a bolt of
lightning wliich struck the old man dead upon the
spot. ^lany other instances of a similar character
have been recorded, but we have not time and space
for them lu're. All sin is rebellion against God, all
sin is moral guilt nnder his law, all sin defiles the soul
and tattooes the character; but no sin is so daringly
blasphemous as that which, in conjunction Avith all
other sins, accom])anies (iod's holy name with the ful-
minating imprecations and maledictions of profane

swearing.

Some people seem to live upon the very atmosphere
of profanity. They appear to exhale and inhale it
with relish and delight. They swear when they are mad
and when they are glad and when they arc sad, •when
thc) are satisfied and when they are disappointed, when
they are fortunate and when they are unfortunate, when
they are sick and when they are well, when blessed and
distressed, in work or in play, in earnest and in fun, at
home or abroad, on the land and on the sea — under all
circumstances, and for a thousand different reasons;
they swear all the time and all the same and iust the
same. There is a time to pray and a time to play — a

JHS

A'KOI AMTV

time for nil tliin«,'H_l)iit tlioy havo no Ht-t time t
and swear. With nianv, the li!il)it iK-i-um

o cnrHo

tary, and 1 Imvc heard men aroiu. (hat they did
and woidd not be hehl aeeounlahk-, beeanse fli

i'.'^ involnn-

nol sin.

ise ilu'y were
noteonseionsol'wliat tliey vveredoin<,^ A« ,vell nii^Wit
the thieCar-iie lor liis liabit, and so with tlie (b-unl<ard
and llie adulterer. Tiie respoiisihilii y Mj.s i„ fontrael-
in<.- tiu' Iiabit, and aeeountahiliiy ^^\\\ i„»i lu- lessened
by reason of nneonyeions or involuntary aetion. The
qnanlity as well as the (luality (»!" the viee will he re-
corded against every nuin who lias become so debased
and deadened l^y a habit that he has reached the jioint at
last wherein he sins nneonscionsly and involuntarily.
1'his is the last Ktage (d" depravity and de^^-radation in
nny vice, nnd it is simi>ly Tearful that so many have
re;ijhed it in profanity. Some swear in the presence
of their i'amilies, before ladies and gentlemen — some-
times before the minister ])rotesting against this and
vwry sin. They beg i)ardon some '.mes, and yet swear
before they get through with the apology.

Strange to say, a man often persuades himself that
he is u gentleman, a good eiti/en, a soeial and busi-
ness exemplar, when at the same time he is a vulgar
and ])rofane swearer. 1 do not say that every man
guilty of this sin is guilty of every other viee; but
J do say that no man Avho swears ean be a trne gentle-
man, a good citizen, or a model in the soeial and
business world. If this is his only vice, he lacks that
I'lnch of being a gentleman, and every virtue he pos-
sesses is vitiated to that extent, lie violates God's
law In one point, and he is guilty of the whole, and
his otherwise stainless robe of character has a big
black spot on it which spoils the beauty of the Avhole
garment, lie sets a bad example to the youth around

IMtOFANITY.

I Hi)

liim, lio (lepn-ciiitcH tho tli<i;nity and honor due to ji
hiMiitui hciii;,^ in tliu t) s ol' (lii; niM-i^^liI, iind tliu
l)nivr and lofliei' Uv may he in oilier ri's|H.'t!tH tin; niori;
liidi'ons and liorrildc Ins Iial)i( looks inUiu li^''lil ol" his
own I'onlri'.sl. A trnc ;;■( nllcrnan rc^^ards the ti'ndcr
t'oiM'tesii's and llu; dcru-atc sensihiliiies ol" rellnt'd so-
rioty. A g()o<l c'iti/i-n Josli-rs tin* hest nionil intt'i'cst.s
of his foiuninnity. An honest num will not cast re-
llection or I)!i;;ht npon llu^ethica' code or the reli;;"
ions creel which maintains the su])reniacy oC hiw
and order, hnnian or divine. 'I'o tranii)lc! u[ton law
and religion in one direction is to weaken Iheir lorco
in every direction, and tin; true gentleman cannot he
u law-l)i'eaker and a reli;;ioii-desecrator. Dr. CJhapin
well said: " Prolaneness is a hrntal vice, lie who in-
dnly-es \t h no (ictitleinan. I care not wliat liis statn|>
may he in society. I care not what clothes he wears,
or wliat cultnre lie boasts. I)es|)ile all his rellnement,
the li^^ht and habitnal takin**- of God's mime in vain
betrays u coarse natnre and a l)rntal will." What may
be said oCthe i)ro(an(; sweai-er as a " jt^^entleman," and to
the sanu' extent, m.«y be said ofbim as a citizen, a civil-
ian, a basin jsd and professional man, or a man (d" so-
ciety.

It is not by any means certain that profanity docs
not lead to all other vices and crimes. The best of
men, otherwise gnilty of this sin, cannot be said to
be true and perlect as a pernninent cei-tainty in all
other respects. An ancient writer says: "From a
eonmion custom of swearin*^ men may slide into per-
jnry; therefore, if thou wouldst not be perjured, do
not use tliysclf to swear." Sam Jones says tbat "a
man who swears will steal." I think tliis is a liard
faying-; but as all sins are akin to each other, and as

\-M

190

PROFANITY.

one sill breeds aiiotlier, it is not unlikely that the pro-
fane swearer is not only in danger of stealing, but of
every other sin. God leaves the man guilty of such
bla?;[)lieniy open and su])ject to every other vice, so
long as the subject of blasphemy persists in his sin.
Thus left to ourselves, without the guidance of God,
who can tell what such a sin will breed? Jeremy
Taylor declares that "nothing is a greater sacrilege
than to [)roslitute the great name of (iod to the petu-
lancy of an idle tongue; " and if a man i)erists in such
a sin against the name and the law of his God, who
can tell what else it may lead a man, lelt to himself,
to do in the end? One thing it is sure to do, and that
is to put the profane swearer into bad company — coni-
pau}' congenial with himself — and bad comjjany will
be Sure to lead, especially the young, into all other
vices.

It is agreed by all that profanity is the most useless
and un])rofitable of all the vices of men. "Most err-
ing people," says Ballon, "when they do wrong count
upon some good to be derived from their conduct, but
for profanit;! there is 110 excuse.^^ Horace Mann wisely
observed: "The devil tempts men through their am-
bition, their cupidity, or their appetite, until he comes
to the profane swearer, whom he catches without re-
ward." In the language of Kobert Hall, " Swearing is
]U'0]»i rly a superfluity of naughtiness, and can only be
considered as a sort of ]iepi)er-corn rent, in acknowl-
edgment of the devil's right of superiority." Many
men imagine that swearing adds eini)hasis to their
expression. It may with the vulgar and profane; but
with the refined and pure the prefix or the suffix of an
oath depreciates and makes abhorrent an honest and
honorable man's word. Such emphasis looks suspi-

I It

PROPAIVITY.

191

cious in the eyes of truth and virtue. Jesus did not
swear, and he connuantled us to •' swear not at all,"
hut to let our "yea he yea," and our "'nay he nay."
Peter, perhaps, i)ersnaded the proCane nioh which cru-
citied his J.ord, that he did not kuow him by means of
cursing and swearing-; hut his [)rofanity on this occa-
sion casts the blackest shadow Avhieh ever fell over
his life and repiitation. The best and mightiest men
who ever spoke or wrote for the world did not swear,
and the world receives their words with an emphasis
which i)rofanity would have forever destroyed. Truth
and virtue, wisdom and philosophy, morality and re-
ligion, h(- . V and integrity, speak for themselves; and
the simple word of an honest man is his oath and his
bond. Think of a book or a newspaper or a letter in-
terspersed with the emphasis of profane s-wearing!
IIow would the President's message read full of curs-
ing and swearing? AVho would not loathe a public
speaker whose eloquence and oratory sparkled and
corruscated with the electric glare of profane o.iths?
And yet how often does the chaste and polisliea speak-
er leave the rostrum to curse and swear 'n conversa-
tion! If profanity is good in one place, wdiy not in
another? It may be said that taste forbids profanity
in writing and speaking for the public. True, but the
very same reason makes it an odious, base, and brutal
habit everywhere else. Of all the habits in the world
it has no place for use or profit anywhere.

What volumes does profanity write for every day
of the world's history! Millions of pages go to press
under the recording angel's pen every hour. This
monstrous and multitudinous sin outstrips all other
vices for quantity, if not for quality. Millions of
tongues from every spot of earth perpetually spin

-4

J i

11)2

PUOFANITY,

out their sticky tlireads of profanity whicli, like a
monster spider, winds and weaves its web around the
world, and into which every thing good and bad is
caught and inipaU'd by his barl^ed fangs. AVhat a
voluminous record does profanity set down against
mankind every day! A'ile, sacrilegious, blasphemous
profanity! A man calls upon God to damn his neigh-
bor and himself, to damn his wife and his children,
to damn his houses and his lands, to damn his horses
and his cattle, to damn his l)usiness and his profes-
sion, to damn his misfortunes, afflictions, and his
troubles— all in malice and rage; aiul then, in fun
and pleasantry, in the name of (iod, he curses his
friends and his ac(pu\intances, his pleasures and hap-
piness, his prosperity and his advancements, his honor
and his lame, every good thing he enjoys and hopes
for. Some he damns to holl, some to misfortune and
misery, some to one thing and stmie to another; and
<' hell and damnation," mixed up with the name of
"Almighty God," are familiar words upon the lips of
millions every day and hour. Tlie profane swearer
lives in the atmosi)here of blue bla/es and sulphuric
stench and spectral darts and harsh noises and grating
echoes, flashing, fuming, smoking, fulminating, and
reverberating every moment through the existence and
associati(ms of some people. Some people begin and
end ahnost every sentence, besides intersjjersing it,
with oaths; and, conscious or unconscious, voluntary or
involuntary, their every vital breath seems to be bur-
dened with the profanation of God's name and barbed
with the nudediction of some object oi- victim.

Young people, be sure that God will hold you to ac-
count fw- this great and hideous sin. " Thou shalt not
take the name of the Lord thy God in vain." lie will

.i' I

IMJOFANITY.

193

not hold hliu guiltless that takes his lioly name in
vain. Learn to abhor this vile and wicked liabit.
Loathe it as low, base, and obscene. Think of Avluit
■^yashillo•ton, the lather of your country, said of it:
"The foolish and wicked i)ractice of i)rofane cursing
and swearing is a vice so mean and low that every
l)erson of sense and character detests and despises it."
Learn, in the language of another writer: "There are
braying men in the woi-ld as well as braying asses;
ior what is loud and senseless talking and swearing
any other than braying?" Profanity is certainly an
asinine as well as a vile and wicked habit, and no other
ass, with loud as well as foul mouth, walks and brays
the earth with greater stupidity than the victim of
this vice. One of the greatest of asses is the cursing
and the swearing ass, to say nothing of his depravity.

THE SULKS.

is slvcteli
s tent aiul
course of
oiiaht is taken rather from
Slialcespcarc's Troilus and C'ressida tlian from
Homer, and I gave the lecture in order to get
to ehiborate one splendid passage from the great
poet, which is never quoted at lengtii. It is found in
Scene III., Act III., and, well read and appropriated,
it is worth millions of gt)ld to a large part of this
Avorld. I want to quote it at length. Ulysses to
Achilles:

Tims liatli, my lord, n Avallet nt liis back,

■\Vlieroin he puts alms for oblivion,

A great-sized monster of iugratihulcs.

Those scraps are good deeds /«/.s/; which are devoured

As fast as they are made, forgot as soon

As done. Prrseveraiiir, dear mij lord,

Keeps honor bright: to have done is to hong

Quite out of fashion, like a rustg mail ■

In monumenfal moel-erij. Take the instant way;

Per honor travels in a strait so narrow,

Wliere one but goes abreast: keep then the path,

Por emulation hath a thousand sons

That one by one pursue: if you give way,

Or edge aside from the direct forthright,

like to an entered tide, they all rush by,

(1J)4)

TllK SULKS.

197

And lenvo you liiiulmost;

Or, liko II j,'alliiut liorsd I'lillcii in first rank,

Lie tlu'rc for pftvomcnt to the abject rear,

O'crruu and tninii)l<'(l on. Tlieii wliat they i]oinpre.<!e>it,

Thoiigli less thau yours in mixf, iiiust o'ertoi) yours;

For time is liko a fashionable luxst,

Tlijitsliirlitly sluikcs his purtiui,' i^iiest by tlio linnd.

And witli liis arms outstretched, as he would lly,

Grasps in the eomer: irelroiiw erer smiles,

Aiii/fdirirc/l f/ors out sIijIn'iijj. Let not virtue seek

Ilemuneration for the thing it Avas;

For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service,

Love, friendship, cliarity, an subjeefs all

To envious and cabimuiHtijig time.

Oiu> touch of luiture makes the whole world kin.

That all, with oiu) consent, praise newborn gawds,

Though tliey are nuido ard molded of things past.

And give to dust, that is little gilt,

More laud than gilt o'erdusted.

liwjirrseiif ri/e prais(>s the pycxciif ohjcrf:

Then marvel not, thou great and comi)lete man.

That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax,

Since things in motion sooner catch the eye

Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,

And still it mii/Iif, and yet it wai/ (rf/aln,

If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive

An(f aisc tin/ rrpiifrifmH in fhij tent,

Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,

Made emulous missions 'mcngst the gods themselves.

And drave great Mars to faction.

If ever Sli;ikesi)eare wrote ii finer or more invalua-
ble seiitlineiit, or eouclied it in more ])otcnt or trench-
ant terms, T liave never read it. Aeliilles, it will be
remembered, was the hero of the Trojan war on the
Grecian side, and during the f>Teat ctmtest often
years Achilles was employed a part of the time in the
reduction of the tributary cities of Asia Minor, be-

198

TllK SULKS.

longin^^ lo the scqUer oi' IVuiiu, tlio kin^^ of Troy

111 Uie (loslnictioii of Ur. city of Tynu's.sns (lio lu.aii-
lil'iil Jiiysei.s iKH-aiiio the prize of AHiillcs, and in \\h,
takiii",^ of Tliehi' ( "hryscis became the prize (,|' A-a-
ineiimon, the iiioiiareli ol" (ireece aiul tlie comiuandi'r
of tlio Greek ai-iny around Troy. A jieslilence short-
ly appeared in the (Jreek oani]), and Calchas, encour-
aged by the ])r()llered protection of Achilles, attril)-
iited tlic i)higue to A<>anieninon'(s detention ol" tlie
daughter ol' ('Iiry.seis, whom her lather tried" in vain to
ransom. Agamemnon was greatly ollended, but was
comi)elled to surrender ids l)eautirul captive, and in
retaliation npon Achilles lie deprived liim of iJryseis.
Hence arose "the anger of the scjn of I'cleus," or
Aclnlles, who withdrew his forces from the I'rojan
contest. AVhilo he sulked in his tent no oilers of rec-
onciliatitm, no entreaties nor in-ayers coukl avail to
get him back into service. Homer rcju-csents him as
aroused at last l)y the deatli of liis friend Patroclus,
and Shakes])eai-e, in his Troiius and Cressida, re])re-
sents him aroused l)y the argumentative i)ersuasion of
Ulysses and Patroclus, who charge him with love to
Polyxena, Priam's daughter and Hector's sister, as
the cause of nnheroic inertia and indill'erence; and
they stimulate him to warlike deeds again by way of
emulation and envy of Ajax. Shakes])care did not
write his play from the Iliad of Homer at all, but in a
popular form from the popular story of Troiius and
Cressida, written by Dares Phrygius. If any story
of the sulking wrath of Achilles is true, it is that npon
which the actum of the Iliad is based and recorded by
Homer; but vhe poet's re])resentation of Achilles, in
reply to Patroclns, after tlie exit of Ulysses, is superb
and characteristic of our aroused hero:

THK SULKS.

199

I BOP, my reptitation is at stake;
My faiiif ia shrowdly gorod.

Acliillt's went t(j battl

(.! imaiii ill i'lill iinnorand with

the full vi-'-or ol' all Ills lici-oic; i'ovvv, and in the end 1

slew ^i-eat Jleetor, al1ii()ii,<j;-li he did not survive his
I'allen enemy, it is said, hut one day. JS'everllieless,
he retrieved the threatened disaster of the " sulks,"

and he left his former fame and ^lory lienor bri<^ht
with a heroic tcrniiiialion of life. How many once
heroic men liave died dishonored and forgotten by sen-
sitive od'ense with the world, siilkin«jf like Achilles in
Ills tent, or else have )-un well and gloriously for awhile
and fell, like the " stony-o-round hearer," by tem])ta-
tion; or, satisfied Avith ])ast achievements or discour-
aged by past sins and lailures, have f(n'gotten to
forget, like Paul, the things behind them, to reach
forth to the things before them, and to press for the
prize!

Let me say right here that the silliest of all the fol-
lies of fouls is to sul^: I have done it myself, and if
any man has less excuse for such a sin than another,
it is the Christian. Some of us sulk even Avith God,
and if there was ever nothing to be made out of such
nonsense with one being more than another, it is with
God. How often I have heard the poor, sentimental
egotist say: "AVell, God doesn't seem to care any
thing about me any way, and I had just as well give
up. He blesses Jones and Smith, but he doesn't bless
me, and I guess I will just take my chances." Did
anybody ever hear the like? and yet this is the spirit
of multitudes of people. I met a cripple once who
said that he had lived a Christian for twenty years;
but, said lie: "T f(uind it no use. My prayers were
never answered, and Avhile others were blessed and

:i|i

l.'(K)

TIIK Siri.KS.

))roH|H'iv(l («o(l HtH'UU'd to lu'/^lcrl nil'. Wliiit liavo I
1«» thank (u)(l i'or?" lie Hskfd, iiiui tlicii lu' pdlnU'd \o
his hi'iiin a cripples and loh'iH jjovi'i'l y and unluHnnalo
Nnn'(tini(lin;;s, 1 ni'ViT was so asl«»iiish('d, lor hnv I
had found a man ^^nlkin^- wiih ( iod, <;i\ in-;- ii|) llic
("hrislian slru^^gk' in lil'c, risking- a hell to hi' shunned
and losing a heaven to he ^A'aini'd, all hecaiiwe (iod
nnide a dillereni-i' hetweiMi him and other men. " 'i'he
gri'ater the cross tiie hri«;hler tlio erown," waid 1 to
him, hut all to no purpose. Like thousands, he was
shut np to the narrow eonlines of his preseut exist-
enee, c'om))arin;;- himsell' with others from tlie stand-
l)oint of transient time and lhin;;s, and forj;etlin^
that "tlicsu light alUietions" here hehiw "do but
work ont for us a far nu)re exeeeding and eternal
wcl,nht of <>"lory" if endured and appropriated to the
spiritual development of <»nr souls. IIow olh'ii men
forget that (iod's eompiMisations for wants and alHie-
tions here below make the eondilion of the nnfortii-
nati' and the suH'eriug the very stepj)ing - stone to
greatest honor and glory througli faith and the cross!
"What a dillereuee bet wi'iMi Divi's and La/arns! Our
vei'V tears are bottled jewt'ls for eti'i'uity. Our very
stripes for Christ are stigmas of glor3\ Our very
chains are diamond bracelets and uecdvlaces for celes-
tial wear. Alas for the pooi, " nn|)rolitable servant,"
sulking over his one talent and hiding it in a napkin!
In vain will he come at last and say ti> his Lord: ''I
knew tbee that thou wast a hard master." How use-
less to sulk with (Jod!

Then let me inquire, AVhat does a man gain by
sulking from any stand-point? ])oes he ever drive
his fellow -man to appreciate him the more, and the
more earnestly call for his talents and his sei-vices?

Till-: sir-Ks.

201

Not oiu-c ill ii lliousand, unless ii m;iii isursiid, i„m--

iM(icfnti)r()|M,Hinnsnn<lursuclunv!.lualil(.iMi|)<>r(i,nr(!
lliat (iKMVcrM ci.niK.t, fri't iilon- >vi(li..iit, liim. An
Achilles miol.t sulk :uu[ yvi ho huc.I, |„M, n.osi, „„mi
can learn Iheir ini|...r|..,nee ),y sliekin- a lin-er in
tin; ocean an.) Ihen piillin- it <,ul, fo find the Imle if
has nnuh— nn old san, hut it saws well. (Jenerally
Ihc world s.M.n for-els fhe sniker, i.nd f hero are al-
ways u dozen i.e<.|.le fo slep in aP.l fak», fhe, place of
•"••linary, and of most (.f the exfraordinarv, men an.l
wonu'n of fhe world. Hesides this, the W(.rld has u
Miprenie confen.j.t for fhe sidk.'r, l\,y sn'kin- is almost

ahvayn theevidenceof van-, y or liffleness, and a weak-
ness of character, if not of inlellecf. Jt is fh,. -jost
babyish performance known fo men, and fhe world
«-oneralIy freafs suc-h people as a j)arenf freafs a sidk-
ino- ehild, eifher hy fhrashin- him out of fhe sulks or
l)y Icavmo-himfo sulk it ouf. Forf unafely for a <-hild
't can -et over fhe snlks; hnt 1 have seen men an(l
women, mo.o foolish than l.ahes,sulk away years and
often a l.fe-fimo of usefulness and honor. I have
Hvvn o.„od chl .leacons and deaconesses, m.,fhors and
lathers m Israel, -ct nmd and take a coi-ncr or a back
pew; an.l the more fhe ])astor or the brethren j.leaded
the sulku.r o,.ew the sulks. They waste their lives
and injure their Churches and wound the cause of
their J.'edeemer, and to gratify their ].ctfy pri.lo and
spite they somefimes -o to their -raves shrouded and
clouded wifh their sulks. How will thoy a],pear be-
tore their (,od m such a mood as this? (iod knows
and wo may all ju<loe fhat such ( 'hrisiianity is doubf^
lul. 1 aul and Vau'wl and Joseph never sulked with
all then- o-reat trials and afllic-tions, and with cheerful
and loro-ivin- spirits toward false brethren and n false

ryS!

Tl K sirijts.

>vorI(l llu-y Ht()(»(l up, tnii'^Ui a ^►•ocmI li^lil, liniHlud
tlitnr fdiirsi', kt>i)t the; lailli, glorilu'd (iod, and tlid (ho
world all ill"' yood tlicy could.

'J'lie .sulkiu;;" spirit' is 1Iil' result, ol" inordiuah' vanity
and o'ji'otisni. Injuiiil innoi'i-uco and wortli never de-
ter ^reat nnuds and hearts iVoiu lile'H stern duties and
jjfrand battles. J^ove, in exalted souls, never I'ails; and
the lieroic eliaraeter despises wron*,'' and j)ities tlio
vvron^"-doer in opposition. Too nuiny men leel that
their little vanity is iu)t appreciated as <li^^nity, antl I
hiivo Hcen the juinister sulk ami sit l)a(dc at conven-
tions or retire from the sti'U<jfg'le of liis calling- and of
Ids denonunation because he felt he was not ajijired-
afcd. Jle does not ai'upreeiate himself, in the light of
his !>rasti'r and his vocation, or else there is nothing
in him to ap])reciate. Who is he? and whal is he?
and what is he hero for? Are })rido and and)ition and
vainglory and self-seeking and high ])osition his mo-
tive and insjiiration? If so, he nuvy exj>cct to bo
thrown into the sull , and he may ex])eet to have to
skulk before he gets through with his (»od and his
brethren, or else with everlasting grit, without gi-aco
or sympathy, fight it out on his own and the devil's
line. Jesus is our model, lie never sulked nor
"squealed" anud the ti'ials of life or the ingrati-
tudes of men or the cruel oi)position (d' the devil;
and he was characterized, in his su])i-eme greatness
and goodness, by the humility, meekness, and lowli-
ness of the little child, which never gulk'^ long. _ We
are not hereto i)lease men or to please oni'seh^s, and
the sooner a man finds out that he is i" ' h rt. i< r him-
self to live or die the soimer he will be cured of his"
petty vanity and egotism, the only ])riucii)le Avhicli
ever sulked. Even a laudable ambition and a true

TIIK SULKH.

2(K{

pride, Hpuakiii!;^ alU'i* tlit- niaiincr of flu; wt.iUl, will
iiover .siillc. '1 ho heroic H|)ii-il, tlu- loii-^li and ;;ritty
charactei', tlio brave and jiilre|>id man, as ;i matter of
policy and cli iraeter anionj^^ nu-n, will not draw back
and cease cH'ort.

Jiiuvcry case true manhood reco^iii/.cH that the world
adndrcs the pluck that will not be ill8coura<^('d and
tlio cheek that will not blanch Ijclore danirers and
dillicnlties. The world wants a man that, it can kick
and cull' and slander for awhile, and who after all will
<ret it by the throat and choke it into subnnssiou and
dra^ it at his heels as Achilles dragged lleetor around
the walls of Troy. 'IMiis world has no use for the
nuiii it can run out of position ;> nl honor; but it al-
ways admires the fellow who can ,>ick himself up and
put the world down. Yvh, this W( ild glories in get-
ting a nnin down into a mud-hole, in wallowing him
all over in tilth and Blime; hut there is no man tl;o
world HO admires as that same man who gets up and
wallows the world in its own hole. This is atrange,
but it is human nature; and the ])reacfier and the dea-
con and the Church-mend)er should it least learn u
desirable portion of this trait in humii i nature. Did
Blaine sulk after he was defeated for President? Did
lie get mad Avith his " mugwump " frieii 's, and give up
the ghost? Xo, he went to work to H" o if he could
not run again; and when he found it wa ^ not best, he
ran in another num — the next best thing. lie will run
again yet if there is a chance; and ho, a\ th a persist-
ent aim and object in life, every man must push on
against the world, the flesh, and the devil, to success.

Yes, my friend, you can stop and sit back and hide
in your shell, shut up like a sensitive plant, and think
you spite somebody, but you only cut ofi' your nose

20J:

TIIK SULKS.

to spite your own luce. "You may congratulate your-
self that you are one of the "has bcens," but nothing-
so runs out of fashion as " to have been," as Shakes^
peare says. Your greatest regret in the end will be,
" I might have been," for no man can die satisfied and
be held in gratitude by his fellows who falls short of
life's full complement of duty and honor. He must
finish his course. The world will not loi-give him if
he fails; and to nuilce the port he must plow across the
billows against the splash of every breaker and against
the bufiet of every storm. He must .ake no compro-
mise, like a sailing-vessel tacl-ing- with every wind;
much less must he set his sails with every breeze. No
man can reach the successful ends of his life, great or
small, by compromise — to say nothing of surrender —
in the face of difficulty or dang-er. It is bad enough
to fail from cowai-dice or timidity, shrinking- before
opposition and responsibility; but the greatest and
most contemptible failure of all is the man who sulJts
his life and his opportunities away because his fellow-
inau offends hini or fails to appreciate him.

'.|

11 ^^M>> ^iU "^^^ 11

THE DBl/IL'S SIFTER.

ESIJS said to PcIlt, heCore 1iu> hotrayal and
l'^ tlu! cnicilLxioii: ••^^ilU(ln, Simon, l)oli()ld,
Satan liath desired to liave you, tliat ho
may sift you as \\ heal: l)ut I have ]irayed
or thee, tliat thy laitli I'ail not: and wlioii thou
irt converted, stren,u;'tlien tliy bretln-cn." Satan
did ^-et liold of Peter, and h'^ silted liim well, eausin,i»'
him to curse and to sweai- and to deny his Lord and
]Ma.ster. He neai-ly scared Peter's life out of him,
and under the overwiielminy- tem])tatiou lie fell a vic-
tim to the sin of cowardice and denial. One glance
of his Lord, however, the admonishing ci-ow of the
cock, brought Peter to his senses and to the deepest
repentance, and the sti'ongand stalwart (ialilean went
out into the dark and wept. His faith had not failed
him, though for the moment overslaughed; for when-
ever Jesus prays for the ])rotection and preservation
of our faith it can never "fail.'' The silting i)roccss
was good f(jr Peter and good for the world, for, thus
turned ahout and converted from his error, lie became
a tower of strength to his brethren. His presumption
.and self-dependence Avere thoroughly cured, and,
though sometimes erring again in other directions, lie
became the great apostolic leader. Tie went " a-fish-
ing" once, hut he said, in the humility of his heart:

I ' km

'J08

THE J>KV1L S SlFTKlf.

*' Lord, thou knowest I love thee." lie "disseinbled "
at Aiitioeli, but l*aul rebuked liiin Jbr his liiult.
Jlencel'orth we hear of IVter, as beloi'e tliis little epi-
sode, standing- up uiiyhtily lor ("hi'ist; and he Avent
down to the grave a martyr, crueilied with his head
downward, lor the gospel's sake. lIoAV often Satan
sil'ted him we do not know, but his denial of Christ is
recorded as perhai)s the bitterest ordeal of the sifting
process through which he ever ])assed — almost, ap-
parently, going" all to chalf.

From this illustra{it)n we learn that God sometimes
makes the devil Ins silter, as >ve see in oui- ])icture.
lie sifted Peter by temptation to fear and cow ardice,
and he sifted ^lob by the severest of Innnan misfort-
unes and aillictions. God tui-ned his servant Job —
a man "[)erfect" in his sight, one that eschewed evil
and feared God — it would seem, entirely over to the
devil. Satan killed his children, burned up his prop-
erty, destroyed bis cattle, and robbed him of Avhat he
had; and when all this failed to shake his integrity,
God allowed the diabolical liend to touch his body
and torture him with carbuncles from the soles of his
feet to the crown of his head. For weary months, and
])erliai)s years, be was a sulferer; and under the so-
called consolation of bis so-called friends insult Avas
added to tlie devil's injury. His Avife consi-ired to
help the old adversary out; and about all that Satan
ancl Sallie and Eliphaz and Bildad and Zoi)har could
do Avas to get Job to sAvear a little at himself and his
fate. So far as God Avas concerned, he exclaimed,
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away;
blessed bo the name of the Lord; " and Avhen the Avorst
came to the AVorst be said to his friends : " Though he
skiy me, yet Avill I trust in him." About all I can

THE DEVIL .S SIFTEU.

209

get from Job's conversation with God and his iriends
is that he was seH-rigiiteous even in his "trust," and
I suppose that God intended to let the devil silt hini
out of that. AVhen lie came to himself and saw him-
self as God saw him, then he justiiied God instead of
himself. He got to wlierc he could abhor himself in
dust and ashes, and then his captivity was released.
I'lie chair was all g-one, and the wheat was clean, and
the devil never got such a thrasliing as he did at the
hands of Job, whom he ti'ied to sift into hell itself.

If Satan met his nmtch in Job, ho met it also in
Paul; for it seemed as if Crod let him silt Paul most
of his life. He had a "thorn in the flesh," the "mes-
senger of Satan," to "bullet him;" and how much
trouble it gave Paul we shall never know until we see
him in heaven. Besides all this, the devil stirred up
more war and oj)i)ositioii, put more demons in human
shape to hurt and destroy Paul than ever fell to the
lot of any other man. A\'e can scarcely conceive why
Paul snllered so much of ill and persecution, but we
know one thing: God never had a hero who could
stand it more like a man. Another thing we knew,
too, and that is the devil sifted as little chaff out of
his wheat as ever fell through his sieve. Ilis " thorn
in the flesh," whatever it Avas, was given to keep him
humble, lest he " should be exalted above measure."
He had been up into the third heaven, whether in the
body or out of it he did not know. He had seen and
heard things which ho coidd not ntter. There was
danger, perhaps, tlmt he Avould feel his distinction too
greatly. Paul Avas human, and he Avas put into the
sifter's hands in order to keep the chafFfrom his A\heat,
not to get it out. So avc see that God tries ns often
to test lis and keep us pure; as often ho puts ns into

(■I
■(I

(I
n

Ill

iiil

I In

}

; ' ii

• -'-St

J»9

210

TIIK DKVIL S S11'TKJ{.

the fire to bum up tlie cliaU' or purge out the dross
from the pure gokl. AV'Jiom the Lord loves he ehas-
tens. lie seourgeth every sou avIioui he reeeivetli.
INlore tluui this, he souietinies k'ts t^atan sift us in or-
der to keup IVoui ha\ ing to ehastii^e us. S<t lie did
Paul, and so ])L'rliaps he did sueh men as Joseph, Dan-
iel, and the Hebrew ehildren.

The devil's sii'ter is eui])loyed as diseijdine upon re-
fraetory Christians. The " ineestuous man," aeeord-
ingto 1 G(jrinthians v. a, was delivered by the ( 'Inni'h,
obedient to Paul's inspired instruetions, unto Sa-
tan for the destruction oi" the llesh, that his sjjirit
might be saved in the day of the Lord »Jesus. We
find, subsequently, that Paul advised — we infer so, at
Iciist — that the Church restore this man lest he be de-
stroyed Avith "overmuch sorrow." He had been
turned over to Satan to buffet and boat him about like
a stray sheep in the woods, and, like the true sheep
■would naturally do, he bleated Avith re])entance and
cried for restoration to the fold, lie was a Christian
who had done wickedly, and Ciod, in order to correct
his child, had put him into the devil's sifter, as he had
done Peter and Paul and Job for other reasons. Disci-
pline is absolutely essential to children by the parents,
and g-ood ])arents, like God, or Cod, like good parents,
always inflict it when necessary. So the Churches
are commanded to do in the iiame of Jesus, and when
a refractory member cannot be restored without dis-
ci]dinehe is to be turned out and turned over to Satan
for the destruction of the flesh, in order to the salva-
tion of his spirit. If the refractory member is a
sheep, and not a goat, he will be sorry for sin, and i-e-
tiu-n with i-e])entance; if, however, he is a goat, he
will be likely to stay and never retiu'n, except for

TIIK devil's SIFTKU.

211

mischief. Tliousamls of our Churelies liiive no disci-
l)line. They arc i'ull of black shcei), and goats as ^velI,
and hence to-day much of tlie loss of our Christian
inlhuMU'c over tlie worhl. AVe are often despised by
the wicked for our hick of discipline and i'or our want
of moral character in the Cinu'ches. Paul says turn
over the bad mend)er to Satan. Let him destroy hisi
flesh, lie sure God wil! temjier the wind to his shorn
lamb or sheep, and in due time he Avill be brought to
rci)entanee and restoration. ])isci})line never destroys
any thing but the '^ fiesh " of the true sheep in God's
fold.

Such men as Jacob, Samson, Said, David, Solomon,
and others, were thoroughly sifted. Samson was not
pei-fectly purged of his chaff until his eyes were put
out and he Avas ground to powder, grinding in the
mills of the Philistines; but lie came (mt all clear and
bright as newly washed wheat in the end. lie "died
in the fiiitli" and went home to God sanctified from
his sins and innumerable follies. So Solomon did, if
he Avrote Ecclesiastes in his old age — the evidence of
his chastening at God's hands and the acknowledjr-
ment that his life had been turned to vanity and vex-
ation of spirit. It was evident that Saul from the
beginning Avas a bad man, always in oi)position and
rebellion to God; and thcnigh God's Spirit often came
" ui)on " him to i)i'ophesy, to government, and to bat-
tle, yet his Spirit never seemed to dwell within him.
lie simply Avent through the devil's sifter instead of
losing the chaff. He Avas not pure gold. He Avent
all to dross, as baser metal always does in the fire.
Jacob Avent down to thegraA^e in soitoav, and so must
David have done, the sins of their lives having been
visited in kind upon their own heads and houses; but

212

TllK i)KVlL S SIFTEl!.

tliey were sifted through sorrow and repentance, and
sanetitied irom their sins in tiie end. rhidas, like
Saul, went tlii'oiigli the silter, trasli and all, wlien once
Satan had rully entereil into liini to betray his Lord
and Master; and so ol* the Dennises, the Alexanders,
the Simon Magnses, the Diotrepheses, and a host of
otliers who professed Christ and followed the Avorld,
niakin<,- " shipwreck of their faith." They believed
and drew back, not believing- to the saving of the
sonJ, and they went through the devil's sifter in dem-
onstration that a faith withont work, a faith without
vital evidence of eternal life, cannot be tried in the
fire like gold. God's trne Chnrch is like the burning
bush — ever burning, but not c(msumed. The chaif,
howevei', will go through the sifter, or get burned up,
wherever it exists in the whole or in a part of the
Christian ])rofessor.

From all this Ave learn that God jjerhaps puts us all
in the sifter. Xo true child of (iod but has been tried
by the devil. Satan tem])ted Chi-ist, came to him in
the beginning and in the end of his ministry, but he
found "nothing" in him. If he tried the Master, he
will try every servant, as the Master himself tells us;
and in this sifting- i)roces8 it is demonstrated who is
the true and the false professor, Avbich is the trne and
the counterfeit gold. "\Ve are tried either by tempta-
tion, affliction, doubt, or fear; and in either i)rocess
of refining- our gold and silver we are nnule manliest
and i)roved as genuine. The heresies and false relig-
ions around us are all for the ])urpose of demonstrat-
ing- the true and the false believer. They are the
scavengers of the s]>iritnal and orthodox Chui-ches,
and those who g-o out from them are not of them.
These heretical sifters of the devil, as well as liis moral

THK DKVIl's SIFTKK.

2i:i

sirtors, iiro separatin*,'- tlio cliafl' IVom the wheat, the
goats IVoni the sheep eveiy day; and Avhilc we eom-
phiin of them and combat Ihem, Jesus tells us that
these heresies are ordained of (iod, that (jll'enses must
come in spite of the condenniati(m of those who ori«-
inate them, '-that they which are approved may he
made manifest." So of the theater, the dance-hall,
the card-table, the bar-room, the bi-othel, the gambiiu'^--
hell, politics, bad business, and evil associations.
These are all the sifters put into the hands of the
devil, who in this respect is God's agent, and who
can go no farther than Ciod will let him. Infidelity,
Ingersollism, is another mighty sifter which Satan
Avields with great elfect, and so of spiritualism. Thou-
sands of Christians and false professors fall alike into
all these temptations of vice and skepticism; and
through this sifting process the true and the false ai-o
separated, the chalf is taken from the true, and the
true are nltimately sanctified and saved. Some come
out of the sifter l)righter and purer than ever, and
thousands go through, chaff and all, as you sec in my
pictorial illustration. In some way or other we all
get sifted, and if we make a profession of Christ, true
or false, Cod has ordained the sifting jirocess to show
beyond a doubt ^vhere Ave belong. Don't think it
strange, therefore, as Peter tells us, if fiery trials try
you. Faith is like gold— all the more precious by
trial. Its trial is "more precious," he tells us, "than
gold tried in the firc>; " and the only faith of value for
time or eternity is a tried faith, or one that can si nd
the devil's fiery sifter. Let us give the devil his due.
He does the true Christian good. lie does not intend
to, but under God's overruling ]>rovldence and grace
he is made a purifier and a friend.

TllK J»KVIl/.S SIl TKlt.

ill

Tlie devil in liko u iiniki fufhcivd in an <)!il-|»!ih'li.
Iloc'iinnol <>•<, I,t.y,,|„[l,isc;,l)ie.-(„w. Ilc^is limiliMJ by
tlio s\yoiv^ jinii ol" (mmI, niid to IIk- cxUmM oI' ovcrrnlin"^
all evil iur «,nj()d toliis jn-ople (iod allows tlic devil to
gi\]mt so Jar and no larlluT. ''AH tliin-s ^^^n^k loocdi-
I'l- I'or «••(„„ 1 tolliom tli;il, lovi; (iod, lo tlicin v» In. aro
the called aeeordin-:-- to his purpose." Satan eouh! de-
stroy dob's i)ro[)er{y, kill bis children, ami torlnre his
body, bnl be c(.ul(l not touch his soul to destroy it.
Aotbiug- and nobody can huil a nuin but biniseir, and
>vith every leini.alion (iod has j.rovided a way of os-
cape. To the righteous man it is good to be alHIeted,
and to such a man even sin and temptation may be
madetotnrnout lor bis nitinniteand eve tsting.wod,
through sifting and chastening. Every tail to true.
Christian maidiood and womanhood is a fall upward
and with the face towai'd the cross. Bitter experi-
ence ap])ropi'iated lias been the stepi)ing- stone to
honor and success in every great calling of lile; and
the iact is no less ti'ue and ap])Iica'!;e to the Chris-
tian's Ingh vocation. AVe shall all have some scars of
battle njxMi ns in eternity. Christ has the scars of
glory n])on him, and though we may have been wound-
ed and bndvcn in the devil's sifter the sears will not
he ingloi-ious totlu' man who has risen to greater use-
fulness and honor by them.

^^^^^9^'

^HS

P '

^^^

'fy>

^^m^

■

HARD-SHELLS.

* > » < -»-

^CC'OMPAXYIXa this ski'ti'li arc two illns-
l^.fc: tnitiouH which need exphiiuilion. The Hrst
|>ic'ture, facing- tins page, represents a
^•^ preaclier before a ])eculiar and characteristic
andience — an andienco of tnrtles seated npon
S^-i" h)gs in a pond of water, witli an alligator lying
olf to one side. I'he ])reacher's text, as seen u[)on
the side of the jjlatCorni upon which he stands, is:
^'Bi/ grace ye are saved; " and the andience, as you will
observe, is dee[»ly intent, heads up, and listening' ear-
nestly to the ])reacher. The alligator, with mouth
open, and ]K!rhaps suifuscd with crocodile tears, is
specially the hypocrite of the congregation. The doc-
trine of salvation by grace is profoundly interestinfj
to the elect, and the "Hard-shell" ])reacher, as he is
called, seldom dwells upon any other theme except
election and predestination or kindred sul)jects, so far
as my observation has gone. It is justification by
faith, "w'thout works," but Avithout the justifying
evidence of works. Paul is always referred to, but
James is ignored; and hence going and giving, living
and doing f )r God's glory and the salvation of a per-
ishing world do not belong to the " Hard-shell's " creed.
In the second picture the scene is the same and the
audience is the same, as you perceive, but another

(217)

; I

I --A

\ m

! lii'

218

IIAKD-SIIKLLS.

preacher occupies the phatlbnu and ai)pc'als to tlic
crusty cougrc<>ation. lie is uot necessarily a soft-
shell in some respects, but lie is a missionary; and, as
you will see, upon the side of his platform he has
a dilfereut text: " Give, ami it .shall be [lioen ijon.'''' Ujjon
the announcement of his text and theme the scene
changes, "dissolves like the baseless fabric of a vis-
ion, and leaves not a rack behind." It is now tails up
instead of heads up. The turtles pull in their heads
and then i)lunge downward from the logs into the
water, and nothing is left in sight of that weeping al-
ligator but his last extremity. The preacher stands
aghast and in chagrin, and he cries aloud in vain. All
liis preaching, all his array of Scrij)tui-e, all his force
of logic is futile. With such a change of preacher
and sul)ject comes a collajjse of enthusiasm with this
audience, and it is as if a wet blanket had been Unntr
over their ardor.

Salvation by grace was extreme unction from on
high to the elec^^, but the doctrine of the "ahnighty
dollar " and of " effort " proves death to emotion and
teai's, no nmtter how clear the Scriptures, how cogent
the argument, or how eloquent the oratory. The
"Hard-shell" turns a deaf car to every citaticm from
the word of God on this point, or else he turns to rend
you with controversy by which he si)iritualizes away
every passage of divine truth which involves giving,
going, or doing for the redemi)tion of the world and
for the extension of the blaster's kingdom. In the
end, if not before, he takes water, as you see the tur-
tles in tlie second picture; and, strnnge to say, he gen-
erally, though not always, belongs to Avhat is called
the "water family," the Bajitists (and the writer, be-
ing of that family, claims the right to say what he

m
liii

'Ill

IIAKD-SIIELLS.

221

pleases upon tliis subject). You find but few profess-
edly anti-missionaries among- other denominations.

It may not be amiss here to explain what we mean
by the term " hard-shell.''^ There is a sect of our breth-
ren called " Hard-shells; " but it is not my purpose sim-
])ly to attack them, and if I allude to theui, it is only
by way of illustration, in order to reach the hard-
shell anti-uiissionary and anti-effort pretender in mis-
sionary ranks. The old-fashioued Primitive Baptists,
as they call themselves, are professedly opposed to Mis-
sions, to an educated ministry, to a salaried pastorate,
to Sunday-schools, and to all effort for the salvation
of the sinner or the heathen by direct agencies estab-
lished for the purpose. They i-egard missionary and
educational boards, missionary appointments, conven-
tional institutions for the purpose of evangelizing- and
educating- the world as anti-scriptural; hence, in the
sense in which we foster Missions and education, they
stand opposed to what they call " man-made inven-
tions and methods." They hold that if God wants a
missionary in Africa or China, he will move him to go,
and provide the means for his going and for his opera-
tions; and believing, many of them, that the Holy
Spirit, without the use of means, will lead the elect
to faith and salvation, they naturally hold that all
missionary, educational, and Sunday-school effort for
the salvation of sinners is not only anti-scriptural, but
useless and God-dishonorine-.

However erroneous we i-egard their theory or their
creed, they are among the most honest people in the
world. They would come nearer, perhaps, suffer-
ing martyrdom for Christ than any other denomina-
tion I know. I have known them to walk forty miles
to be at one of their Associations, and they are much

99':»

IIAKD-SIIKLLS.

i*!ii

devoted to their Churches, and kind and hospitable
to one anotlier in brotherly love. I never knew but
one of tliem to take advantage of the homestead or
bankrupt laws, and he was excluded from the Church.
Formerly, a letter of dismission from an old-school
Biiptist Church was a letter of credit to a dry goods
or grocery merchant; and the i)ayment of an honest
debt, or the dealing out of exact justice to his fellow-
man, Avas the pride of a "Hard-shell." They are
hard in doctrine, fatalistic in theology; they believe
more in ''feeding- the sheep" than in converting the
goats; they do lujt believe in the use-of means and
measures for the extension of the gospel to 'i perish-
ing world; the}' believe that God does not need to be
helped, and that '' whatever is to be will be," as some
i'acetiously say, "whether it comes to pass or not;"
but one thing is certain, you always know where to
find an "old-side" Baptist, and he wouldn't deceive
you to save your life, if he is as he used to be.

The old-school brethren have their faults, as I have
already intimated; and they have, as I think, their
grievous errors; but they are rigidly and openly hon-
est. Many of their preachers dote on their ignorance, .
and seem to think God holds their illiteracy at a pre-
mium. I have heard some of them preach some of
the most ridiculous sermons in the most ludicrous
manner, and yet attribute what they said and did to
the operation of the Holy Spirit. One is said to have
represented himself as having a funnel, ordinarily in
the top of his head, into which the Spirit poured the
words he should utter; and on one occasion, when he
"got into thebi'ush," he said God had turned the fun-
nel wrong end up! In East Tennessee, as a promi-
nent minister present told me, an old Primitive broth-

nAliD-HllELLS.

s tliscourse

cov>8, but in those days it took cio-ht ,„on tn m;n-
bear, and they didn't get much ,n 1 T ''

J'ly instances of bad readh, ft • ," ""^'" '""'"■

there were nine more standino- of +i,„ i ', ^ •
fusar in ,„e,,.„"_a„ s„d; t-fl^Vj^^t^^r*; '".^

a.e »„„, IK-Urnblo ex t tn^T; ZTT'' !'"" *'"■■"
-"> P-.eI,i„g as ched i „" '"p ' ™'%", """"'''l
o,,,. citie.,-„„,ab,y i„ Jfashvillelt ,e ."e I nT?, t

^^^^^^n

22J:

llAKD-SUELLS.

Buch a martyr spirit and purpose, should dwindle in
uunibers luul i)o\\ er every day Ibr the want of a mis-
sionary and i)r()gressive spirit. Wliat a power tliey
miglit have been in the world, planted ni)on the great
commission of Chi-ist, " Go ye into all the world, and
f reach the gosiicl to every treat trre!'^ 1 speak this senti-
ment from my heart in all kindness and love, and I
can assure my Primitive brethren that if any thing' I
could say or do would contribute to their evangel-
ical advancement, I would lay any sacrifice I could
offer at their feet. Perhaps they Avill consider me
presumptuous and my offering gratuitous; but, what-
ever they may think, I am their loving' and obedient
servant.

But I am not after the "Hard-shell " of the Primi-
tive school, as I said before, except by ^vay of illus-
tration. I am after the hard-shell of some of our
modern schools. I have respect for the old-fashioned
" Hard - shell " who hitches onto the rear of your
cart and jmlls the other Avay, but I detest the balky
hard-shell in 3'our own team. You can cut the hard-
shell loose in your rear, but it is hai-d to manage the
lazy or the obstreperous fellow in front of you. He
is one of you, and he it is in all of our Churches Avho
does us the most harm. He won't give, nor will he
do any thing for Christ and his Church; and often he
is sitting down ujion the stool of do-nothing, congrat-
ulating himself upon being saved by grace. He is
going to heaven upon a Pullman sleeping-car, at rest
in his berth, rolling on wheels, with his luggage of sin
and indifference checked through; and he is perfectly
concent to let his brethren bear all the burdens and
all the ex])enses of the business, in the prolits of which
he hopes to participate.

IIAHD-SIIKLLS,

225

He never takes ti religious newspaper, that lie may
keep abreast with the progress of the Christian world;
and this kind of a hard-shell, while he boasts much
of the Bible and of having- all tlie truth, never reads
or studies it. lie is opposed to boards, theological
seminaries, Sunday-schools, and what-not of elFort and
enterprise, and he does not even give to the support
of his own ])astor. If you will preach faith without
works, salvation by grace without evidences, his head
is up; but a missionary or educational sermon will
put his head into his shell every time, lie will tako
water, too, without an argument, and it is like strik-
ing a feather-bed with your list— there is no i-ebound;
he will not even answer you nor fight you back. He
is a hard-shell, and he is a moss-backed one at that,
willfully ignorant and self-determined not to give and
never to do any thing except to go occasionally to
Church. He lives mostly in country places, but not
unfi-equently in the city. He may be a Baptist, a
Methodist, or ii Presbyterian — I have seen them every-
where.

. One great dithculty in the way of many of our
Chui'ch-mcmbers on this point is ignorance, and one
reason for this state of things is the want of pastors
in many places Avho will enlighten the people practi-
cally and push the enterprises of religion. I know
some pastoral ignoramuses who would be willing- to
preach for nothing to enjoy the distinction, or else to
live upon a pittance to have the privilege; and of
course such a preacher would never develop the lib-
erality and the energies of his Church. There are not
a few Churches, too, that would like to have just such
a i)astor, and there ai-e more members in most of the
Churches than we think who are of just such a caliber

22G

IIAHD-SIIKLLS.

and sentiment. There are some pastors who i)icrer
not to press the missionary and educational enter-
prises of tlieir denomination for fear that their own
pockets will snifer; and, while they promise big- things
at the Association ov the Convention, they go home
to resume their habit of doing nothing-. All this is
€ld hard-shellism, anti-eft'ort, anti-missionary, anti-ed-
ucution, and much of it results from pastoral igno-
rance or inefficiency.

Like people like priest, and, vice versa, like priest
like people. Ilard-shellism is an antichristian lie, and
it is the only form of antichrist whicli seems dcs^
lined to die in an age like this. God nor the devil
has any i-espect for it, for it will not give nor work,
and neither God nor Satan has the jiatience to deal
long with stinginess and laziness. Ilard-shellism —
religiously, socially, ])olitically, connnercially, or oth-
erwise — would never have develoi)ed a woi'ld, an idea,
an age, or a country. It is the boast of " masterly
inactivity'," the sin of negation and inertia, the hy-
pocrisy in those who profess to be ])rogressive, of im-
pecunious lassitude — the end of which is an everlast-
ting ''innoccnous desuetude." It is fatalism or the
presumption of negation and inertia which makes
hard-shellism, and the sooner it dies, oi" we who have
it dic>, the better for the Avorld. So mote it be, if God
will.

;•«»

I
I

JEALOUSY:

OR,
THE BIG AND LITTLE FELLOW.

jSSHoJj-^^^^r^^T this skctcli is tlic picture of an ass

^¥'^if. l<it'kin<? at a lion. I'lic hon is tl
5^1' tic symbol of manhood; the ass,

is the majes-
ss, of pusil-
^ lanimous littleness and stnjjidity, of small
ability with bi;:;- aspirations, jealous and envious
of the lion's dignity and reputation. The little
fellow, unable to cope with the big one, and immeas-
urably below him in character and achievement, brays
and kicks at him; Avhile the big- fellow is scarcely con-
scious of the little fellow's existence, and pays no at-
tention Avhatever to his voice or his heels. His bray-
ing and his kicking arc neither heard nor felt, and the
more the ass brays and kicks the bigger and more
prominent becomes the lion. Sometimes, of course,
inditference and patience cease to be virtues. The
little kicker ventures too close, and occasionally the
lion has to make mince-meat of him. The bull-dojr
or the great mastiff ordinarily pays no attention to
the barking tice; but sometimes the little fellow, em-
boldened by the big dog's indifference, will venture
not only to snap, but to bite, and the big one annihi-
lates him. !N"ot often and not otherwise; and we are

(229)

,* .M

230

.JKAI.OirSY.

thus (Voquently .struck with the dignity of tlio largop
brute as wc notico his majestic uncouceru or iiidiller-
cuce when annoyed or attacked by smaller beasts.

In the picture before us, however, we have choHeu
the ass for an illustration of the little fellow. Tho
character oi' the small man, jealous or envious of the
great one, is pre-eminently asinine, rather than ca-
nine. It is the ass, as we call him, who manifests
such a spirit and exposes such stupidity. .Esoj), in
one of Ills fables, shows the ass in the lion's skin, cre-
ating consternation among the other ])easts until his
ears popped out, when the terror subsided. It is the
ass only that will pose as a lion so long- as he can con-
ceal his cars and sui)press his voice, and it is the ass
only that will bray and kick at the lion when his voice
and his ears cannot be hid.

Shenstone has well defined jealousy as the "fear or
apprehension of sui)eriority;"' and onxy, "our uneasi-
ness under it." It is the cancer in every man's breast,
never wholly cut out, and only mastered by gi-eat
minds. ^ We all have more or less of this passion,
which is an angel when it guards tlie truth of God
and the honor of man, but when if turns the soul
against itself and a--ainst its neighbor it becomes
what the great poet familiarly calls it

The green-eyed monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on.

It is said to be born of love; bnt, while love rarely
exists without jealousy, it is true that jealousy often
exists without love — cold, heartless, cruel *as the
grave. As Oolton says, "Jealousy can feed on that
which is bitter, no less than on that which is sweet,
and it is sustained by pride as often as by afiection."'
Suspicion and apprehension are its deepest and com-

.n; A LOUSY.

231

monest source. The Hnsi)ecte(l fidelity oi-" tlie Kimrcd
iViciHlsliii) of otljei'H on tlie one liuiul, aiul the iiitiTpo-
sition of nnother's Huperiority or e\eolleiK'<.' on tlio
otlicr, constitute tlie bane of u million bitter, burning-
lives; and jealousy and envy arc the poisoned and
acrid food upon wliich they feed. To be suspicious
of those we love, to dread the overshadow! n<r irreat-
ness of those we hate, to realize our own depieciation
and inferiority — all this, made a beautiful writer ex-
claim:

() Jcnlmisy,
Thou ugliest fiend of hell I thy deadly venom
Preys on my vitalH, turns the heulthful hue
Of my fresh cheek to luif^gard HnllownesB,
And drinks my spirit up.

This i)assion, perverted, "ever lives upon doubts,"
as Kochefoucauld says, "and it becomes nuidness, or
ceases entirely, with certainty."

Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirm,! lions strong
As proofs of holy writ.

The slightest apprehension felt, the faintest doubt
or fear, fills the soul by jealousy wrought in little
minds with every torture of a self-made hell. In
fact, in the bad sense, jealousy and envy are the prod-
uct of small minds; and a\ hen unsubordinated and
displayed they become the characteristic of supreme
asininity. In the good sense, these passions are the
safeguards of the pure and lofty soul; and they are the
bulwarks of virtue and honor, truth and righteousness.

The Bible says : " Jealousy is cruel as the grave : the
coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most ve-
hement flame." One of the conditions upon which
Pilate wanted to release Jesus was because he " knew

232

JEALOUSY.

that for envy " the Jews wanted to erncif'y him. The
majcstie innocence of Jesus, the nnansweral)le logic
of liis wisdom and rigliteousness, tlie towering grand-
eur of liis character, his mighty works and achieve-
ments, liis vast popuhirity with the people, made the
Pharisaic asses kick as high as heaven. Christ stood
an awful rebuke to pride and hypocrisy, an ominous
menace to vaulting ambition, greed for gain, and love
of place before men. The scribes and Pharisees hated
Jesus worse than the devil; and with their blindinc
prejudice and maddening envy they transformed the
Son of God, the incarnation of innocence and deity,
into Beelzebub. The cross is still a " stumbling-block "
to pride and ambition, still " foolishness " to " science,"
falsely so called; and imder the same circumstances
jealousy and envy would ci-ucify Christ again. The
proud and prejudiced asses still kick and brav against
being crucified to the world, or having the world cru-
cified to them.

Purity and superiority are the shining marks against
which jealousy has ever shot her fiery shafts; and even
high positions of wealth and honor have shared the
same fate. The tongue of scandal and slander is the
barbed arrow of jealousy when brains and character
are in the way; and the torch and die fagot have often
been applied when the splendor of stone fi-onts and
fine arts have confronted the green-eyed envy of an-
archy and mobocracy. Churchill beautifully said:

Among the sons of men how few are known
'V\'Tio dare be just to merit not their own!
Superior virtue and superior sense
To knaves and fools will always give offense ;
Nay, men of real worth can sca^-dly bear,
So nice is jealousy, a rival there.

JEALOUSY.

If jealousy, as Milton terms it, is the " injured lover's
hell," nor ever " understood " until Paradise fell, how
much more must it be a torment to the sense of inferi-
ority and disparagement in the view of small minds,
ever looking lynx-eyed and green-eyed upon the su-
periority and prosperity of those above them! As
already'intimated, this otherwise painful passion has
a just and rational place in the heart when it aims at
the preservation of good in ourselves, the honor of
truth and virtue, the glory of God and religion; but
when it overestimates itself and underestimates oth-
ers, when God and religion, truth and righteousness,
virtue and honor are overshadowed in the form of
pride and selfishness, then jealousy shifts upon the
uneasy bed of envy; and, in the language of an emi-
nent writer, when it is so turned it becomes " a frenzy
that cannot endure, even in idea, the good of others,"
much less the success and exaltation of others. This
is little kicking aslninity.

We have but to look around us every day to find
illustrations of Avhat we have said upon tliis subject,
the little fellow kicking the big, the perpetual con-
summation of jealousy in some form or another. The
greatest and best men of any country, especially
when they have attempted gieat and good things,
have beeii the shining nnirks of envy, and have been
tattooed all over with the brush of jealousy. Though
dead, some of them, this ghoul of the malicious heart
has dug up their bones from the grave and daubed
them around with rings of blackness. During one of
the late presidential campaigns the little politicians
who were slandering the candidates for the highest of-
fice in this country Avent to the grave of Washington
and exhumed the *' Father of His Country " and soiled

234

JEALOUSY.

the usaes in whicli liis glory lay buried. Of course
piirtisjui zeal and prejudice have much tp do with that
vile malignity which drag-s down personal honor and
dignity in political contests; but the best man in the
United States, the niig-btiest genius, has but to be
presented for position or office, and the little asses all
over the continent begin to let fly their heels. They
go to hunting for the ' record " immediately ; and if the
man ever made a mistake, if he ever soiled his char-
acter, even in youth; if his great-grandfather ever did
any thing wrong-, however slight the sin, the micro-
scope of jealousy and i)rejudice is put upon it, and it
will come out in Puck wr Judffe in the most huge and
hideous cjiricati're. But for their grandeur of genius,
their force of character, Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Lin-
coln, Lee, (J cant, and a host of the greatest men of
our times would have been buried in the oblivion of
history by the little carpers and the maligners. Spur-
geon, Tahnage, and Henry Ward Beecher, Koger
AVilliams and John Wesley, have been spotted all
over; and one of the sources from which spring the
persecution of these great men at the hands of those
who have tried to injure them is the jealousy of little
preachers, little editors, little critics, and little sap-
pers and miners of character. So we might speak of
Gladstone and Blsniarck of to-day, of Luther and
KnoY, of Fulton and Galileo, of a host of reformers,
inventors, discoverers, developers, and creators, who
have changed the face of history, and who, under
God, lifted the world to its present height of civiliza-
tion against the prejudice, opposition, and persecution
of mankind. Jealousy a!ul envy have ever stood by on
the jiart of little asses to kick at and drag down to
the level of their inferiority and baseness the great-

|!l

JEALOUSY.

235

iiess and grandeur of u!! that tower above them. " To
be great is to be misunderstood," says Emerson, and
lie miglit have added, "to be liated."

A part of the glory of maligned goodness and of
traduced greatness has been the suj)reme indilference
ordinarily manifested to\vard inferior baseness and
opposition. The ass has kicked, but tlie lion has not
noticed even when he observed. The dog has l>ayed
the moon in vain. A small-statured man once struck
a huge, gigantic iellow in conversation with another.
The big man didn't seem to notice it; and some one
present rcmarlvcd to the little fellow: "You had bet-
ter stop striking Jones, or he may find it out after
awhile, and knock the life out ol' you." "NVe have all
heard the story of the big man who had a little midget
for a Avife. She I'requently abused and beat him with-
out his paying any attention to her. Some one asked
him why he submitted to it. "It amuses her," he
said, " and don't hurt me, and so I let her enjoy her-
self." This is the way the truly great treats the little
fallow that brays and kicks at him. The ass is a good
animal in his ])lace; but out of his place, posing as a
lion, or kicking at a lion, his asininity becomes ob-
Borved, his ears pop up, his voice is recognized, and
his character becomes api)arcnt. Nothing is so be-
coming to a donkey as to stay in his place, keep his
mouth shut, and contiol his little heels. The majestic
lion speaks I'or himself Avithoufc roaring; and it is a
c<mdescensiou of his dignity whenever he has to
stoop to recognize or punish an ass.

The only time Avhen the ass really enjoys the great-
est satisl'action is when the lion is dead, and when he
can kick or kick at him •with impunity. A small and
jealous mind always rejoices when the great man in

28()

JKALOUSV.

bis way dies or falls into luisfortune; and it is often
V m that the little fellow brays the loudest iind lets
his heels ily the highest. The magnanimous nuui, the
great mind rejoices in the grandeur mid glory of oth-
ers like himself or above him.sclf; and when Greek
meets Greek in the arena of contest aie lofty spirit is
proud of the man worthy of bis steel. David was pui--
sued by Saul all his life, a g.-cat man in some respects,
bclit'led and dwiudled and dwarfed ijito a pigmy, at
last, by jealousy; but David's great heart and noble
spirit could refuse to take the life of his antagonist
when he had him in his power, and when " God's anoint-
ed " fell on Gilboa's gory heights the magnanimous Da-
vid could sing a dirge of sorrow, a ptean of praise infi-
nitely more than worthy of his ftdlen foe. O David, was
there ever a soul like thine? How little this great
man felt in his own estimation, as in Mie light of Saul
be called himself a " flea! " but how, in the light of his
jealous and mean antagonist, does he tower in moral
grandeur above all the numhood and magnanimity
ever written of men/ Kone but Christ surpassed
him here; and Paul a. id Moses in this respect never
equaled bis bearing toward Saul. While bunting bis
father's asses Saul stumbled upon a kingdom; and be
tumbled from the kingdom playing the meanest ass
that ever kicked against a splendid and lofty spirit.
He went down, and David went up, as is the usual
ftite of the asinine spirit and the lion-hearted. Let us
learn here, my friends, the sublime moral lesson that
greatness and goodness will ever triumph over and in
spite of all the asinine littleness and opposition of the
world.

THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL.

(T/kJp'Mlli'HE \vc (liscovc'i- two inouiitaiiis stiiudiii;^ oj)-
Ijll'f^)) positc! ciU'li other. They arc oM Sinai of
' Arabia and Calvary of J udoa, a deep val-
ley iniervcnin^; between them and ffernsalem
in the distance. On Sinai Htands !Moses with
the two tables of stone in IVont of him, the old
monnt shronded in clouds which Inutle with thunders
and li^-htning-s, ])ealin<;- and strilcing- with their bolts
upon Calvary. On Calvary stands Christ in front of
the cross, holding- the everlasting gospel in his hands;
shedding the softer and more genial light of evangel-
ical trnth across the valley between, and ilhuninatin<^
the tables of law in Moses's liands. Sinai and Cal-
vary, Moses and Christ, the law and the gospel — these
are the counterpai'ts and the complements of each
other; and while the former typifies and foreshadows
the latter, the latter fulfills and explains the former.

From difFcrent stand-points of observation they in-
terpret and blend with each other, and neither the
gospel nor the law coidd be fully nnderstood without
the other. Especially is it true that the spiritual im-
port of the law Avould never have been comprehended
without the illumination of the gospel. " Thou shalt
not commit adultery," says Moses; but Christ teaches

that to lust in the heart is to be guilty of the act be-
UJ (239)

240

TlIK LAW A.M> IMIK (iOSPKL.

fore God. So of munlor, tliol't, lying-, covetousnoss,
and of cvoiy otluT ,sin incorporated under the law
of God. llonce, "Nvliilc ii man by culture and reline-
mcnt may bo externally inn(»cent of every transgres-
sion, wlictlier by -word or deed, he may be a thousand
times guilty of every transgression at heart, and if lie
is gnilty of but one only, he is guilty of all. So ex-
l)lains and develops the law luuler the light of gospel
interpretation, and so i< is interpreted that unst'llish
love to man and supreme love to Goil can alone keep
or fullill the law upon our part.

Saul of Tarsus, Gornelius, the rich yonng ruler,
were all " jwrfect," as touching the external observ-
ance of the law; and yet the gospel discovered to
Paul that he was the "chief of sinners," to Cornelius
that he must be "saved" by the blood of Jesus as the
meanest sinner in the world, and to the rich young
ruler that he had never had the faintest conception
of the law's spiritual significance, the end of which
-IS salvation by grace through faith in the Lord Je-
sus Christ.

The law is not able to save, and IVEoses was not a
savior. The law, or Moses, is simply our school-
master to bring- us to the Savi(mr, Christ; but we
never could understand our school-master, except in
the light of Christ and the gosi)el. All the law can
do to help us is to bring the knowledge and conscious-
ness of sin and secure conviction and re])entance to-
ward God; but the law could not do this, except im-
der the spiritual lamp of the gospel of Christ. In
the absence of gosi)el light the law ceases to be a
school-master and becomes a tyrant over the blind and
dead sinner, driving him to the endless bondage of
precepts and ceremonies, trying to save himself by

I j

THE LAW A\n THK (JOSI'KL.

241

Bell-ri<>hte<)UHiu'ss and wcarin*? a galling yoke wliic-h
gives him no rest nor lu'utH- of body, mind, or heart.
It 18 only when we enter the Hchool-niaHtcr'H olHce that
we learn of (1n-ist and exchange yokes to lind the
gos|)el burden light and easy, ri'stl'ul and |)eaeefnl to
the enlightened and regenerated spirit. Without the
gospel of Christ, whelhei- in tyjie or antitype, the
Holy Spirit coidd never have brought us to leara the
spiritual nature and im|)ort of the law upon a sin'>-le
human heart dead in sin. 'Hie word of Christ is the
only pen, the blood of Christ the only ink by which
the Spirit can legibly write (iod's law of life upon
the Heshly tablets of the heart, and thus kill it to sin
and make it alive unto (iod under liisilivine peiunan-
ship.

The word of (Jod, both in the Old and the N"ew
Testament, is a dead letter to the dead sinner; but
when, through a belief in the gospel and the hand-
writing of the Holy Spirit, we arc cleansed from sin
and quickened to life in Christ, then we can compi-e-
hend the law in the light of the gospel. AVe catcli its
S])iritual import and i)urpose of revelation to us, and
the Old Testament kindles bright and luminous as a
star lit up in the splendors of the Sun of righteous-
ness. We see the face of Afoses and the sunnnit of
the old mount shine again with inetfable and unap-
proachable splen(h)r for the monuMit, and then we be-
hold them soften down into the mildei- and sweeter
radiance of Christ, who was '< touched," and of Cal-
vary, which can be "touched" by the lost and ruined
sinner.

The true believer of the Old Testament spiritually,
though not so fully as we, comprehended the import of
the hiw. Abel and Enoch, "N'oah and Abraham, Mo-

m
M

■KM*

ees and Duvul, all navv Christ and his day alar oil' by
propht'cy and by the typical blood of " the Lamb
Blain IVoni the foundation of liic world." The jrospel,
Bays Tanl, was preached to Abraham, and ho to all
the rest who truly believed. Throup^h Closes, by
whom came the hiw, they beheld Christ, by whom
came j,nace and truth, the life and the light of the
world; and the saved of all disi)ensations believed on
his name, were cleansed by his blood, and were (piick- ^
ened by his Spirit, by the same inunutable liw of par-
don and life, before and since Christ, before and since
the Day of Pentecost. To the saved the law was al-
ways, as now, the school-nuister which led to Christ,
and the gospel prefigured or consummated was always,
as now, Uie refulgent and i-ef1ective glory which lit up
the tables in Moses's hand with their only true and
divine interpretation.

Keeping the isynd)olism of our picture in mind, how
strilving are the lessons we learn as we behold, fi-oni
various^stand-points, the law as lit u]) or illuminated

by the g<)s])el!

Take the nu)ral law. This is the law of life as Je-
sus taught the rich young ruler, if a man keep it; but
to this end a nmn would have to be born pure and holy,
l^erfcct: and then he would have to keep the law i)er-
sonally, perfectly, and peri)etually, from the cradle to
the grave, in oi-der to live by it. In fact, such a man
could not die, and such a nuui has never lived. The
very idea of death ])resupposes sin; for by sin death
came into the world, and hence all have sinned, and
were born in sin; "by nature the children of wrath,"
as Paul teaches the Ephesians. However correct a
man's external observance of the law, however trained
and kept by the most rigid legal culture, he cannot

THE LAW AM) TIIK (JOSIM.L.

2453

obey the Hpirit of tlui hiw. " Cursed is every one that
coiitimit'th not in «//lInng-.s wliicli are written in the
book of the liiw to do them; " and yv\, in essenee, not
one 8in<^le hunmn bein;^ l)orn of A(hun • ver obeyed
owe single prccei)t written in tiie hiw, nuicb less contin-
ued in it, to do it; and yet this eni'«e is pronounced
upon the dead sinner incapable of keeping, in spii'it,
one jot or tittle of (fod's least connnandinent. Hence
the necessity of Clirist, who perfectly kept the law
for us, who (lied '< redeem lis fi'om its penalty; who
became our Prophet, Priest, and King instead of Mo-
ses, Aaron, and David; who l)ecame the second in
])lace of the first Adam; and who, having substituted
gi'ace instead of law, became for us " wisdcnn, right-
eousness, sanctification, and redemption " by the sat-
isfaction of law. How gloriously the gospel lights
up this fact when once you can make a sinner see
that ho cannot work out his salvation under the law,
and when he can be nnide to cast himself upon Christ,
his substitute for the law I

How blind is a poor, self-righte(m8 sinner, trying" to
live unto (Jod by his morality! How much blinder
still is the poor, self-eoncelted sinner, trying l)y "sci-
ence falsely so called," to reason out his life in Godl
How the gospel of blood opens thus the blinded eyes
to the terror and Mie weakness of law, to the futility
of all philosophy, however excellent and useful as a
rule of the present life! And how, in the very light
of all law and philosophy, it brings before it Jesus,
"the one altogether lovely and the chiefest among ten
thousand!" Beneath the cross we can discover the
exceeding sinfulness of sin. Clod's vindicative justice
satisfied, and we can behold, as contained in the law,
but never revealed by it, how he so loved the world

'2U

TIIK LAW ANU TUK (iOSl'KL.

The

as to ffivo Ills only bc^ottiMi Son to die for it
vury law tk'niandi'tl this Hacriliri' oC inlinitit jind civr-
niil lovo; and in tho vory suciilici' of love uc can Ik;-
hold the di;L;iu(y iind ihc >ii|>i(niiicy of llu- hiw.
lli'rc'in WX' ht'hold tlu' solniinn of an odu'rwiHt' nn-
(U'nionstrali'd |H(ii»liin : How (iod could lu' just to hiu
and yv\ love the sinnei-, and how he eonid at. the sanio
time ju.slily the un<>od!y ac<vr>/t/if/ fo Imv. This Caet
in the seheine oC human redemption, revealed hy tho
gospel, pours the l)ri«>htesl Hood of li^r|,t hack upon
the signilicanco and value of divine law, which is the
moral transeript of (iod's will and th. moral reflec-
tion of (iod's life. ^lorality is the cssenee ol'Ciod
ami eternal, the spirit and cssenee of hi!:i law; and
the gospel I'evt'als that moral ^uiltcan alone I'oatoned
for by the sacriliee of inlinite moral dignity. The
law typified and foreshadowed this vital and central
truth of Christianity, hut tlu' ^'•ospcl makes it. lumi-
nous and relulyent on Calvary, lu all these thin<>s it
takes tlu^ law first of all to make an intelligent be-
liever of the gosi)el; but it takes this intelligent be-
liever of the gospel alone to look baidi upon Simii and
see and acknowledge tlu> supremacy and dignity of
God's divine law of life, inexorabli' wiie: uusatislicd,
and yet mach' jxttent and living by the atoning blood
of Christ wbcji written by the Holy Spirit upvsn the
tablets of the regenerate heart.

Talce the ceremonial law with all its synd)olic insti-
tutions. AVhat wonderful ty])es and shadows of the
'•good things to come" under a gospel dis])cusation!
and yet how incomi)rehensiblc except under the light
of that gospel! The bloody sacritices of the law
would be a horrible and hideous butchery if they did
not set forth the altar of Calvary with its sacrifice of

i'.'

Tin; I.ANV AM> IIIK <J<)SI'Kh.

2i5

Clinst, the <' pntpiliation t«u- tlu! h'hih of tlu> whole
\v(»i-l(l." N«» W'MkUm- llu- poor, hliink'M Iii;i,^i'r.'-.)lliiiu
Hi'i's iiothin",'' but thu shuinhluH in the sin iitici's of tlie
.Jewish (lis|u'iisatioii. He does uol wee (.'hiisl, iiml
not Ht>ein^' ChriHtiii all, hi! cannot comprehend Anion
nnv more than he can eoiu|)reliend Moses and his >n-
cailrd " mistaki's." It is a I'earlul and awCiil lad that
(iod cannot coine short (if, nor «^(» he^ond, blood to
sav J !'. -cRusi! he cannot conu; short nor <>:o beyond
1) s law Iv help the sinner. " VVithonI shcddinjj; of
Mo(h1 is 1. remission," said the law; but who conid
e><'" havi' iMuUM-stood this Icarful maxim but for
the . l;::nl)ration of the fact in the lijrht of Calvary's
cross? Salvation is a le«^al transaction as well as u
moral tiansformalion. Thei-e can be no display of
<livine mercy without the vindication of Justice, and
it was tlu' part of iuiinite and etiM'nal love, foreshad-
owed on Sinai and consunnnated on f'alvary, to step
down and out of J?l<>ry, tread the win(!-press alone,
walk amid the woes of hell, taste the horrors ol" death,
and shed the judicial blood of an atoniny:sacrillce for
sin. lilood, blood, blood! Awfid but ju^lorious dis-
l)lay of (Jod's leg-al suprennicy and di<^nity to the in-
lantilo apprehension of the old dispensation; but,
blessed be Ciod, with one stroke of divine justice,
<mce for all and foi-'-er, inliuite Innocence died on
the cross, closetl the holocaust of centuries, and
opened up the dim and cloudy i)ast t<i the midday
splendors of the Sun of ri<>-hteou8ness, redeeming
the woi-ld, transfornung- the centuries, and paving- the
way to the millenniums of glory.

So we might speak of the types of the ])riesthood,
the temple, and the kingly offices of Israel. How in-
comprehensible, but for their revelation and fulfill-

>!|

246

THE LAW AN!) TlIK (JOSl'EL.

ment in Jesus Christ! Aaron and liis rol)es, the altar
and tlie lavei', the tahle of shew-bread, and the can-
dlestick and the incense altar, the holy and the most
holy place, the ark of the covenant and the shekinah
between the cherubims, the wonderful veil rent in
twain at thecrucilixion and uncovering- the most hoi '
place, the two goats on the great day of atonement —
all these who could have ever understood but for Cal-
vary and its consunnnation? These things would
have been enigmas, glittering and insoluble mysteries
witi..ut signiiicance, but for the gospel. How clear
and beautiful and glorious do they kindle now to the
believer's eye, and what strong confirmation do they
give in proof of Holy Writ and of our glorious Chris-
tianity!

So we might speak of prophecy, which is a kindred
development of the legal ilispensation. The prophets
of the did Testament would be regarded as fanatics
and visionaries but for the gosi)el. Yet how loftily
and authoritatively do they speak to all generations
when Christ and his apostles confirm theii- declara-
tions, and when the gospel and the kingdom of God
fulfill their marvelous ])redictions! David pictures
the .very crucifixion in all its details, and predicts the
very woi:ds of Christ's crucial agony : " My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me? " Istnah foretells
the Son of God ")y name — Innnanuel, God with us,
born of a virgin, and called " AVonderfnl, Counsel-
01-, mighty God, eve'-lasting Father, T?ie Prince of
I^eace." Daniel portrays the glory of his "everlast-
ing kingdom," counts the very days and years to the
tinij of his crucifixion, wlien " everlasting righteous-
ness" should be brought in, and when "Messiah
sh uld be cut off, but not for himself." Joel blazes

THE LAW AND TIIK OOSPKL.

241

forth the Pentecostal splendors, and they all conspire
to proehiim the establishment, progress, power, and
consummation of the Church down to the millennium
in minute J'.nd inimistalvable detail to the intelligent
readei and believer of the gospel. How grandly do
the ])rophets point to the cross and the kingdom of
Christ! and how res[ judently do their predictions
and doctrines glow nndcr the interpretation and ful-
fillment of gospel light!

Hoary seers of the centuries gone by! I see. you
marching through tlio obscurity of ages, Avith stately
step and awful form toward Calvary and the cross,
and then I behold yon grow radiant and luminous in
the light of Christ and his apostles, as did Moses and
Elijah, the representatives of the law and the proph-
ets on Tabor's top. Then, as the transfiguration
scene ])asses from my vision, T behold Moses and Eli-
jah gone, and but One left in the midst of his rep-
resentative apostles, while high Heaven exclaims,
"This is my beloved Son; hear ye him;" and while
the everlasting record of (iod writes in letters of gold:
"Jesus Oxly," He is the "Alpha and Omega" of
both dispensations — the "All and the in all" of every
age; and in him the law and the gospel, the i)rophets
and the apostles, center as one complete unity, the
complement and counterpart of each other. The old
points forward to tlie new, and the new ])oints back to
the old, and both the old and the new covenants meet
as the two parts of God's divine and eternal indent-
ure, the will of the dead and living Testator, Christ,
signed, sealed, delivered iii his own blood, probated
in the courts of beaten, and executed and adminis-
tered and applied to a perishing world by the Holy
Ghost.

I Hi
I :

Ill

Bed ^go Short, Blanket too Narrow.

->^<^ — -

)icture drawn for this sketch is an illustra-

^ tion of Isaiah xxviii. 20: "For the bed is

i^^ "^ shorter than that a man can strctcli him-

[Sji self on it: and tlie covering narrower than
that ho can wrap liiinself in it." Tlie carica-
ji^fy tnre shows the wretched and sleei)lcss condi-
tion of one upon a cold night nnder such a situation
of unrest. Tlie real theme of the text is ixu Insnffi-
cisnt Felif/ion — tliat is to say, a i-eligion whicli has an
iiisullicient foundation u])oii which to lie, and an in-
suilicient character with which to cover the soul.
Self-sufliciency and self-righteousness, principles and
])ractices which an; fundamentally'- aud resultantl y in-
elficient and vicious, constitute such a rclig-ion. The
occasion of the text, however, involved the literal
condition of the Jew^, in the mind of the ])rophet,
when they shoidd be shut uj) in Jerusalem by the
siege of the Assyrians, aud possibly pointing to the
final investment of the lionmns, when Jerusalem
should ''C closed in and destroyed.

The concrete idea of Isaiah, therefore, was that the
Jews thus inclosed iu their city Avould be placed
ill the most straitened circumstances; and with no
(Jod to help them, dejiendiug upon their leagues with
other nations and looking to false gods for help, they
r2481

I i

MED TOO SHOUT, BLAMvET TOO >rAKROW.

25'.

would have no foundation for hope and no covering
against their fate. Jerusalem, with her walls and her
hulwarlcs, would be like a bed too short m lie on, an
insufficient defense in itself; and with no God to
cover them with his righteousness and protection,
they would be without wisdom and strength, like a
man on a cold night with his blanket too narrow. Ju
such a situation there would be neither rest nor com-
fort, neither help nor hoi)e; and any man who has
spent a Avinter's night at a second-clasH hotel or a
third-rate boarding-house, where you are treated
"just like home-folks," can have some appreciation
of such a condition.

The spiritual application of the picture before us —
the figure of an insufficient religion — attbrdsan inter-
esting- study. AVhat is such a religion? It is any
religion which has no foundation to build upon, no
character to clothe itself with for eternity. The only
relijjion which ever offered a sufficient basis and a
sufficient covering is Christianity. Christ is the only
liock of our salvation; and he alone can be just to
sin and yet justify the ungodly. He alone can pay
sin's debt and impute righteousness, save the soul
from death, and cover moral guilt. He died for our
transgression, and he was raised for our justification;
aiul when the Christian appears at the judgment hr
will stand upon the Kock '^W Ages for salvation, and
will be clothed in the righteous robe of Christ's merit,
the only " wedding garment " in which we can appear
at the " great supper of the Lamb." We are saved
by grace, justified by faith; and our entrance into
life and glory will ' >• based solely upo'> :vnd charac-
terized by the record and dignity of Cii'i-c, our gy't
and eternal Substitute. The Christian's own charac-

I -•

25-2

IJKl) TOO SllOU'l, BLANKET T<JO XAJtlJOW.

ter.iiul righteonHness arc the evidence and oistcomo of
salvation by ;4i'acc, justification by faiiti hero below;
and ids own cl.nracter and ri<^hteoUHne.ss Wiii be his
joy and reward bcicaftcr; bnt tlu grace ni' God il(*ii,e
can, tlu'ough Christ, regenerate aud justify hini, save
and sanctify hins, crown iuin t'lorify Lini. • hristis oui'
'' all in all," our " wisdoni, sivj-hteouaness, sanctifica-
tion, and r('deia[)iion," the "Author and P"'inisl>('r
of our faith;" and he is the only itcd Ujion which we
lie, the ouly covering in which \\c wrap for ealv'.Hon
and sanctification. " Other fouudaijon," says Paul,
•^^ can ?!0 man lay; " and Peter says, "There is no
otlier 1) iihe under heaven given among men whereby
we r ai be >avcd." The atonement which Jesus made
I'oj' itav sins under God's grace is our all-sufficient
foundation; and the righteous less of Christ wrought
out in his perfect life, and imputed to us by faith, is
our all-sufficient covering.

Tiius \\c are redeemed and thus clothe;! for God and
eternity. In Christ alone, as in no other conceivable
way, can we be made alive from the dead, and reck-
oned innocent. Quickened by his word, justified by his
blood through the operation of his life-giving and
blood-cleansing Spirit, we are saved and sanctified;
and when m e stand at last before (iod, body and soul,
we shall be a1)solutely perfect through the redemptive
scheme, conceived, executed, and applied through the
blood, the word, and the work of Christ. We shall
completely escape death, hell, and the grave; and in
the consummation of oitr resurrection from the dead
we shall appear in glory without a stain upon oui-
character, and without a defect in our natui-e — all
through the ]ierfection of Christ, It wil! take perfec-
tion to stand before ])erfection, both V and moral.

BED TOO SllOirr, BLANKET TOO XAUKOW. 253

There is no other Avay, philosophical or religious, to at-
tain this end hut hy the cross of Calvary. A man
must be justified from the (juilt of' sin, he must he
made alive from the dead, both morally and physically,
and he must be i)resented before a perfect God without
spot, wrinkle, or blemish, to inherit eternal life. How
can this be done except through the crucilied, risen,
and fi-loi'llied lledeemcr as revealed in the Bible?
How plain to the devout and intelligent believer!
AVho that knows the depth and character of sin can-
not see and believe this truth? AVe must be perfect
to live with God; and perfection has no foundation
except in the redemptive atonement of Christ and in
the covering character of Christ. Nor can such per-
fection be wrought out in man or ai)plied to his life
except through the pardoning and justifying blood
and the regenerating and sanctifying Spirit of Christ.
Out of Christ, in the very nature of things, God
must be a consuming and eternal tire. "Blessed is
the man whose sin is covered, and to whom the Lord
imputeth not iniqnity."

But let us now glance, by contrast, at the religions
of human reason and superstition. The Jews tried
idolatry. They made leagues with surrounding na-
tions and worshiped theii- gods, seeking help against
internal division and foreign oppression. They for-
got Jehovah, they abandoned the blood of the typical
covenant, and the consequence was that they became
a prey to the r own internal dissensions and corrup-
tions and fell under the appalling domination of for-
eign despotism and superstition. All the gods and
armies of Egypt, Assyria, and ISEoab could do them
no good. Straitened and stricken by famine and
siege, desolate, distracted, and divided aniong them-

25J: BED T(J<) SIIOIH', BLANKET TOO NAUBOW.

selves, without the lielp and hope of Israel's God,
they ever Ibund heathenism and idolatry a hed too
short to stretch upon and a covering too narrow to
wrap themselves in. They only survived and lived
when they cried and retui-ned to God and to the ark
ol' the covenant. When ith.Iatry and heathenism
had been cured among- the Jews by cajjtivity, they
linally iell into Phaiisaism and Ibrmalism, another
bed too short and another blanket too narrow; and
in the final destruction ol" Jerusalem by the Komans,
when the nation was shut up and slaughtered within
the helpless walls of tiic golden city, we have a per-
fect idea of the Prophet in the declaration of this
text and in the use of this figure, who beheld a])eo-
ple lying down ui)on a false and hollow religion, and
seeking to cover themselves with their own sulKciency
and righteousness.

So with every other nation worshiping the gods of
reason or superstition. They have perished or are per-
ishing from the face of the cai-th. Babylon, N inevch,
Egypt, Greece, and Pome, with all the glory of their
empires and their civilization, have pass >d away upon
the foundation and under the cover of an insufficient re-
ligion. The only nations which have lived and pros-
pered, and elevated the earth are those wiiich have
recognized and honored Christ and Christianity. All
other nations now living are simply dead while they
live; and they only quicken and advance with the
glory of the age as the blood-stained banner of the
cross is unfurled above them. What is true of a na-
tion is first of all true with the individual; and in
proportion as the true or false religions prevail is a
nation, a State, or a community dead or vital.

Let us look, individually and characteristically, at

BED TOO SHOUT, HLAXKKT TOO XAKUOW

2r>o

this subject before we come to a conclusion. Behold
the moralist and the philosopher, dependiuy respect-
ively upon his sell-n;,rhteousness or his wisdom for
salvation, and see if his bed is not too short and his
blanket too nai-row. Intellectual self-conceit or moral
self-ri<>hteousuess is the foundation he lays or the
roof he puts ui)on his ivligious structure. Jle needs
no Jesus, or only wants him as a convenience, not a
necessity. Christ may have been a good man, a i)er-
fect teacher, a model exemplar in life and sacrilice;
but he is not a Redeemer, a Saviour! lie is a great
helper, but his blood neither cleanses nor does his
Spirit make alive! Christ and him crucified is a stum-
bling-block to Jewish self-righteousness, and foolish-
ness to Greek self-wisdom. The heart of man is the
bullmus root of the hyacinth, and, at best, if you take
Christ at all, the gospel is but the light of "a moral
sun Avhich warms and develops the 1 -autiful flowei's
of human excellence and inunortalit^ from the bulb-
ous root in which is contained all thevirti;;' .Mid pos-
sibilities of eternal life. Many do not ne •: Christ at
all, in any sense. They are too good to be damned.
They don't need blood to cleanse them. They require
no regenerating life from God. They don't steal nor
lie nor curse nor cheat nor drink, and thev do good,
are charitable, belong to the lodge or some benevolent
order, and expect to get to heaven upon their own
goodness and righteousness. Ask one of them if he
trusts Christ for salvation, if he wo, .Ii-;^ God, if he
contributes to his cause, if he loves aiul serves the
Creator and Redeemer upon the principle of allegi-
ance and devotion as a child its parents, as a bene-
ficiary his benefactor, as a subject his king, and he

Will tell you, " ^^o." God is under obligations to him,
17 '

;;•

li*:.

25(5 «KI) TOO SHORT, HLAMCET TOO XAJtUOW.

nut ho t" '^ '' Vt least, it is a imittcr of debit and
credit, nud (%va is on tlie debtor side of tlie acconnt!
ller.ven la tlio result of eovenant, a business ti'ansae-
tiou between him and his (iod; and he is expeelinjj
the rGAvard upon the ground of his j)hilo80phieal acu-
men or Jiis moral self-ri<'hteonsness. lie is his own

wav, his own ti'uth, "

n life.

AN cU, now, this gejitleman's bed is simply too short
and liis eoverinji: is loo narrow. It is not long- nor
broad enough for etei'nity. His covering is al>out
like the iig-loaf garb of .Adam and Eve in the Garden
of Eden, and his fonramtion is about like their hid-
ing-place from the ojo of God. His self-i-ighteous
service is about like the offering of Cain, the works
and fruits of his own hands, offered to God and re-
jected. The fig-leaves bad to l,<^ taken off of Adam
and Eve and tlie ski. is from the slain aninud, the
ty])e of Christ crucitied and of Christ's rlgb; ousness
put on. The offering of blood by Abel, not the fruits
of Cain, was acci ptable, becansc it i)ointed to " the
Lamb of God slain from the foundation of the world; '
and onr self-righteous and self-wise gentlcnen will
have to have Abel's blood as a foundation ai l Ad-
am's huub-skin as a covering to stand before God.
Withc'it Christ and bis righteousness he shall never
see Gu!, Out of ( iirist, lei me repeat, Ciod is a
consnming fire. Alas for all ritualism and formalism
and self'V',:'!tconsness even in the nrofe8si<m of Chris-
tianity ! Even these are a bed too short, a blanket too
narrow before God and angels and eter.uty.

AYe might speak of i' iiumber of insnllirient things
which this pictu- 'lust rates, but we mnst close a\ ith
but a mere ment . i all the affairs and relation-
ships of life men .nust luive a j^rinciple to build upon

BED TOO SHORT, BLANKET TOO XAKUOVV. 'I'H

and ii character to cover Avith. Thv loundations of
governnioiit, biissuieHS, Kociety, iamily, ami individual
integrity depend upon this idea of life and .success.
In every case failure follows life and clloit, if i)nnei-
ple and character he wanting, 'flie politiciiin whose
only ambition is otlice and s|K)ils, the business man
whose only aspiration is money and ease, the preacher
whose only idi-al of his high odice is reputation and
place, the social butterfly whose (mly aim is admira-
tion and con(|uest, the young man whose crownino-
hope is a g-ood time in the world — builds his house in
th'' desert, and, like the ostrich, covers his head in the
sanil. His foundation will be .swept away in the
flood, and his destiny will be uncovered by time and
fate, which, like the hunter, ])ursue the g-ame of fancy
and f(<lly to destruction. ;M;iu has but three objects
in existence: (1) to glorify God, (2) to help his fellow-
man to heaven and hapi)iness, and (3) to develop him-
self, withal and by all, to the stature of manhood in
Christ. Here is a principle on which to build and a
chai-actei- with which to clothe which time cannot de-
stroy nor eternity take away. Any other principle
or character is an insuflicient foundation and an insuf-
ficient covering. The bed is shorter than ;v uian can
stretch out npon for eternity. The covtiiug- is nar-
rower than that a man can wrap h.'mself in for eter-
nity. Life, teni])oral or eternal, must liave irne prin-
ci pies upon which to bn"' I and t<> rest, a true character
with which to clothe and to vx<\ -r.

-I

: «;if

The Drunkards Last OpFERinG.

-o^<-^

iT^^^^N tlie picture l)t'f()re us we l)oli()l(l the druuk-
'^^'j^ !U'(l in tiitlcTcd yi\<xs — l)l()atc'il aud l)luri'e(l
^ilv "^ out of UKiuliood's once ruddy aud rouud-
:/::'\ vd lorni — laviuj^- liis owu iuunortai soul upou

the altar of liis whisky <>-o(l. 'I'liis altar is a

\vhisky-l)arr('l, croctcd iu a hai'-rooni, behind

the counter of which stands the monstrous sha])e of
tlie l)ar- tender, aud helbre uhich sits Kiui;- Alcohol,
holding up to his victim the whisky-hottle, which "at
the last biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an ad-
der." This poor, lost, and ruined innuortal sold
conies with his last oU'erinji;-. lie has lon<^' since sur-
rendered money, morals, character, wife, children,
and all; and in his desperation, with every resolution
l)roken, and every hoi)e lied, he devotes both soul and
body in fiendish consecration to the divinity of his
appetite, lie cuts loose from every prosi)ect of the
future, and, glancing back over the checkered and
desolate career hehind him, he shuts himself up only
to the madness and gratification of the present, lie
would give a world for one drink of whisky, and he
says to the devil: ''Give inc drink, and I will give
you myself." The fiends of perdition clutch him
round about, and the devils of the liar- room con-
spire with hell and make a league with death to

['■! ' ■

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•"mM^t

TlIK I)1!1:MvAI!J) S LAST (_>FF];i:i>(;.

201

give liiiu the danminj^ cup, Avlien he ciiu't *i,'et bread
to cat.

AVhcn all else is gone to the drunkard he can still
get a drink of Avhisky; and the most appalliug spec-
tacle of hiiman depravity and debauchery is seen in
the abandoned and forsaken soul that hazards hell
and banishes heaven, if only the appetite for drink
can be g-ratilied. l,have seen such, Avhen every tie
and motive of this life, Avhen every touch and terror
of eternity Avas swalloAved u]) or obliterated from the
deadened brain and the petritied heart by the all-
consuming' thirst for liquor.

It is often the case that the temporal pains iiud i)en-
ultics of the earthly hell into which strong drink turns
life lune no power to deter the reckless and mad-
dened drunkard upon his downward and hellward
career. I have seen the victim of delirium tremens,
raving with mania a jiotii, curse liis habit, at lucid in-
tervals, and swear reform; and, although shriekiag
and haggard, on the very verge of the grave, yet he
would recover to break every purpose of reform and
to violate every promise of manhood. It would seem
that these awful experiences, which do sometimes ter-
rify some into sober lives again, would never fail to
reach the most obdurate debauchee who ever lived;
but thousands go from one scene to another of this
character, and jjcrsist to the death of all held dear in
time and ho[)ed for beyond the grave. The drunk-
ard, strange to say, is seldom an inlidel. His awful
experiences — his horrid visions and terrors .of con-
science — compel hini to believe that there is an aveng-
ing God Avho has tixed his punishment upon the
violation of law, and who has reserved a hell beyond,
which is proved by its foretaste and counterpart

I. N

ai«.'vii.'^»^',.'»(iiv**»

2()2

TllK DllUXKAHD S LAST OFFEUINC;

here. And yet it is straiio-e that the poor lost wretcli
will ])ei'sist ill Hying from one hell to reach another
M'oi'se than the one already endured. I have seen
some v;ho thought the hell to come was almost a
heaven to the one alrr>ady reached, and once I heard
a drunkard exclaim: " I had rather go to hell than to
live!" It seems that drunkenness can so develop a
torment in the soul and in the life of its victim as to
make the prospective hell a paradise to the one en-
dured, and hence we often see, in the blindness and
delusion of inebriety and desperation, the man com-
mit suicide and end a career which sends the soul to
I'isk the ills it knows uot of, in order to get rid of the
ills which, while they onl}- foretaste the future, dazzle
Avith false ho])es of the life to come.

Of all the enignnis in this woild it is drunkenness
and the drunkard. The fascination and allurement
of alcoholic intoxication — which fills the brain with
fancy, which robs the heart of care and trouble, and
which olevates the man with hallucinations of his own
exem]ition from danger, ])eril, oi- poverty — are easily
seen, to l)e sure. I'l-udence, i'ear, and depression, all
take their flight, and, for the time being, the man
lives in the airy realm of his own imagined security
and ha])i)iness — turning loose every passion, to revel
in its fancied or real gratification, and subordinating
reason, wiil, and motive to the wild and ungovernetl
play of emotion. ^Nfost men enjoy this state of ex-
liilaration and delirium, r.nd when intoxicated imagine
that they are wi-^er, better, and ha])pier, often, than
the l^est of eai-th. But it is a wonder that the dread-
ful collapse of remorse and degradation which seizes
the sensil)ilities and the intellections when the sober
moment comes does not forever banish, with horror,

THE DKUXKARD S LAST OFFEEIXG.

263

the thought of such a stiitc again. For a time it does
frighten and debar the drunkard in the incipioncy of
liis delusive and destructive liahit; hut as the habit
grows the victim becomes ingulfed with the irrepress-
ible desire to drown one collapse by another debauch.
Even when the piirpose of reformation gives a long,
lucid interval it is strange that the drunkard's fear-
ful experience is forgotten, and, in the mad thirst
for the alcoholic effect and experience, he will, against
every protest of conscience and remembrance of hor-
ror, again go back to the bottle. The fact is that
drunkenness becomes a disease, under the nomenclat-
xwe of opiwmania; and when the lierce frenzy of that
disease takes ])ossession of the man, however long the
interval of sobi-iety, he would rush to the bottle over
the very pit of hell itself. In thousands of instances
this disease becomes chronic and constitutional, and
nothiug biit scientific and prolonged treatment can
cure it. The truth is that hal)itual drunkenness be-
comes a disease in every case, and in only a few in-
stances curable by the loftier will and motive ])ower
of the inebriate. He is like the man attlicted with
cancer or consumption or scrofula; ar.d his delusive
and habitual disease of the appetite must be cured by
all the forces of mind and medicine which can be ap-
l)lied. The solution of that enignui which at last
makes a man willing to sell his soul for whisky lies
largely in the theory that drunkenness becomes a
constitutiomd and chronic disease. It is like any oth-
er species of moral or mental insanity — once formed,
and the disease once lixed in our nature, it is almost
as impossible to resist our im])ulses in the one case as
in the other.

What is a man's duty under these circimistances?

(if>

■i-<Wwaki«.^-" »'.-,^--', ^^.

2(U

THE F/RUXKArD S LAST OFFEltlXO.

f. 1.

D'i'

AVluvt is the duty of his Iriemls? "What is the fluty
of liis country?

1. The man's responsibility lies in ever coming- to
such a pass. AVith the experience and observation
of the "world before him, Avitli his own experience
and observation in the incipient stag-es of his temp-
tation and his disease, his accountability lies in not
stopping- his dread career at once; and "when he is
once confirmed in his hal)it, once diseased beyond the
cure of "will and motive, he should do as any other
insane or diseased man does — go to the asylum and
submit himself to treatment, lie has Clod, and relig-
ion too, on his side; and with the use of means, dili-
gence, and prayer the grace of God can cure any case
of inebrictv "where all manhood is not destroyed and
when drunkenness and debauchery have not passed
the day of grace. The drunkard may not have the
power of self-cure within; but he can subuiit him-
self to scientific and divine remedies. The worst of
men have been saved and elevated iiito positions and
lives of usefulness and power, as John B. Gough,
Benson, Bliss, and others I have known.

2. A man's friends and family should combine to
save him; and he should be cut loose from all his so-
called friends avIio conspire to ruin him. We should
feel that a soul is Avorth something; and, with its
temporal and eternal dignity before our eyes, Ave
should treat the drunkard as we treat other people
diseased, mad, and helpless in tliemselves. Energy,
prayer, Avork, long-suffering, patience, and determina-
tion, by all a man's friends and family combined
would accomplish in most instances the drunkard's
reformation and salvation. We usually treat drunk-
enness as a ho])eless nuitter, become disgusted Avith

THE DllUXKA r.])S LAST OFKEHrXCi.

205

its victims and turn our bnck u])()n them; smd if, often,
we would do as much for theui as we do agaiuot
them they would be sa\cd. We want faith, h)ve, ami
work here as in the salvation of the lost and (^f the
heathen; and wei'c the Christian world bent upon Ihe
drujdiard's salvation as upon China, India, and AVrica
tluHLsands would be redeemed where thousands fill a
drunkard's grave and go to hell. Xothing is impos-
sible with God; and if he could save the thief on the
cross, Mary INIagdalene, Jolin Buuyan, and John B.
Gough, who is it he cannot redeem in the use of
Christian charity and energy, faith and hope? The
drunkard is responsible; but how many of us arc
equally responsible for not liel[)ing and saving the
lost thousands annually dying and going to hell?

3. The duty of the Government is as equally clear
and plain. Xo civilized Government in the nineteenth
century — •jiist bordering on the twenticili century —
should allow a traffic which makes universal pauper-
ism, crime, and insanity. If men will have liquoi',
let them make it and use it for themselves; but let
no man be allowed, in violation of divine precept,
to put the bottle to his neighbor's mouth. As a
medicine, if necessary, the manufacture and sale of
ardent spirits can be restricted to the scientist and
the druggist under the pains and penalties of law;
and so ought every deadly poison used in the materia
medica. Xovices and irresj)onsible persons should
ncLmake nor sell opium, strychnia, arsenic, and other
poisons, without license and prescription; and alco-
holic liquors, so far as manufacture and traffic are con-
cerned, shoidd fall under the same rule, as they do ir.
some States and countries. A pint of whipky wil"
kill a man not addicted to driid<.; and hence it is a '

•}M

' 'i

;,,[9

5 '

^'fl

'^''9

'i^tSJJ^TBW

2G6

TIIK DKUXKARI) S LAST OFFEltINf;.

deadly narcotic ])<)is()n. Worse than this, it is to
thouisands a poison as lascinatin<^- and deadly as the
charm of the serpent; and it is inliiiitely more dan-
gerouri to handie and taste it than all other poisons
put together. To touch it is to die by multitudes, in-
fatuated with its eifect; and if ever tliei-e was one
poison more than another the object of alarm and
the subject of legislative restriction, it is whisky.
By all means it is the duty of the (Government to
destroy the saloon, iironounced a nuisance and a uni-
versal evil by our Supreme Court, and adjudged
amenable to State and national h'gislation. If licpior
must be sold, for humanity's sake kill the Isar-ro* ui
business, and let some plan be adoi)ted 1)y which the
existing evil can be robbed of its social curse, essen-
tially created in the saloon resort. Our Government,
our politics, our legislative and business enterprise,
ai'e all dominated bv the saloon, all corrn])tcd in some
form by this infamous and infernal nu'chine of de-
struction to every thing good and noble in num.

Only look at the illustration which faces this
sketch to see u true picture i)ainted every day in
vivid and awful reality in the tens of thousands of
saloons which curse this sunny land. I'his is the ef-
.fect of the bar-room in its last analysis. On the altar
of his whiskv god the drunkai'd hivs. at last his
shrieking, immortal soul; and sends it to his lier}'^,
endless, hopeless hell. Such is the power of alcohol,
and such is its doom that no drunkard shall enter the
kingdom of heaven. It nui}' be said that men will
eat opium, or take cocaine, or form other habits of
the appetite; that they will lay their souls upon the
altars of other gods as vicious and damning as whis-
ky; but this argument could be used for the practice

TiiK 1)1!l;vkai:d's last offkuixg.

267

of any otlicr vice. Alas for the cold-bloodccl theory
that every iiulividiial is alone responsible for luinself;
and that 1 may ])lac'e before him any temptation I
choose, -with impnnily and Avithont responsibility !
Alas for the fallacy of the "personal liberty " soph-
ism that every man ]nay kill himself, and his neio-h-
bor too, ]>y -whisky, if only a license is granted to
drink and sell this damnable destroyer! Svhv le<'is-
late against concealed weai)ons, gambling-hells, and
lewd houses? or why not license them all as we do
the saloons?

My friends, think on this pictnre— the most pitiable
and the most horrible ever drawn by the imagination.
lleHect and ])onder, poor tempted man, and then go
and drink again if you can, with such a prosj)ective
fate before you. Think upon it, sober men and wom-
en, and then give your iiitluence, if you can, to the sa-
loon. Kemember we shall all meet at the judgment
— the drunkard and the saloon-keeper, the law-maker,
the voter, and the citizen — and if no drunkard can
enter heaven, if no giver of drink can escape God's
almighty '' woe," what shall be the penalty inflicted
upon the nnm who wielded his suft'rage and his influ-
ence to fasten the accursed saloon npon his country?

Tell me I liate the bowl?

Iliifr is too feeble a word!
I loathe, abhor; my very soul

AVith strong (Hsr/iist is stirred
Whene'er I hear or read or tell
Of this dark beverajje of Iiell.

1) ,

« ,H

THE TWO WAYS.

HJT two rotuls load to eternity, iuul these two
^ roads lead in precisely the o[)posite direc-
tion. Oiu' of these roads leads to lieaven,
the other to liell; and we aii' all on one or
tlie othei- of them. There are no other roads
leading- to I'ternity, no hy-ways which switch
ofl". no midways hetween; and the ])icture hefore ns
is an exact representation, in suljstance, of what Christ
says in Matthew vii. 13, U: ''Enter yo in at the
strait sate: lor Avide is the oate, and broad is the
way, that leadeth to destruction, and mam/ there hu
Avhlch g'o in thereat: because strait is the g-ate, and
narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few
there be that lind it."

1. J.et ns look at the narrow way. It is entered by
a strait or dillicult g-afo, represcmted by the little nee-
dle g-ate in the wall of Jerusalem, throug-li which it
was next to iini)ossiblc for a camel to g-o. Before do-
ing- so lie had to be sti-ipped of all his load, and get
down on his knees, and with great diflicnlty squeeze
through. Coming to Christ is like entering this g-ate,
for a man can just barely get through., stripped of his
load or luggage. So Christ enters us, as we enter
him, by repentance for sin, Avhicli we renounce, and
by faith, through Avhich avc receive him into our

(208)

I 11

n\k

I. iff

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'f!

TIIK TWO W AVS.

271

hearts as lu; receives us into his fiivoi-. We cannot
got to Jesus with tlie worl.l on oiu- hack, with our
hearts lull of worl.lliuess an<l sin; and he could not
acce])t us m this condition if wc; couhl so o-ct to liini
n e have to nnike a conipU'lc surrender of ourselves
and of our sins at ])is leet, and it is thus we enter
Christ, who ,s the (h...r. lie isah.ne the sheep-o-ate into
the kino-dom of heaven, and if we eiind) over the wall
or ovt in ostcnsihi.v h.v any other wav, we are thieves
<'»'l >;<'hhers. H ,.,, the entrance to the " ua. row
vvay ol life , ..id a^'Btrait gate," because it is
<linicult or hard to enter. Jt is too elosc for human
nature, unreo-encrated and unconvei-ted to (iud, and
It squeezes sharply against all our natural inelina'tions
and predilections, even when eonveiled. The world
docs not like this -strait -ate," and hence hut com-
paratively ivw ever rra/l// enter it. Thousands -o
around it by a loose and false profession and climb
over the wall. They apparently get on the narrow
way, like IJunyan's man "Ignorance," and otliers; but
they will soon cither forsalce this narrow way or else
they will go on to the end in delusion. liiis little
strait gate, this sheep-gate, is tlie gate of repentance
toAvard (Jod as well as r,f faith in the meek and lowly
Saviour, and it implies that conversion to Christ which
incarnates his life, his spirit, and his truth, and which
qualifies for putting on and for following Christ in
his appointed and holy way. This gate crucifies hu-
man nature to begin with, and without entrance
through it it is impossible to tread the narrow but hea\ -
enly road. How important it is to enter, to start
right! and how many thousands would have been
saved the trouble and misery of having attempted, de-
lusively and blindly, to ti cad a i)ath which thev have

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IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

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Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.r. 14580

(716) 872-4503

A*-

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272

THE TWO WAYS.

ever tried to broaden and smooth to suit their tastes,
appetites, pride, passions, and and)itions!

But let us notice particuhu'l y the narrow way itself.
You see but few who are treading- it, for
Wisdom shows a narrow path,
With here and there a traveler.

We have sho^^n that the strait g-ate to be entered is
the reason why the few travel the narroAV path. ^lany
seek to enter in, but are not able because they do not
seek to enter aright; and hence only the ''few," as
Jesus shows, walk this nai-row way. ]S"ow it is a very
close way, but it is amply broad enough for truth and
righteousness, for faith, hojic, and love to find room.
It is not close and narrow to true conversion, to con-
secrated and devoted Christian life; and it is broad
enough fr-r all the people of ten thousand such worlds
as this to get upon and go together if they would
enter the needle-g-ate of the sheep. This narrow way
is sometimes a rugged way to the Christian, but all
its hills of diflicnlty or its valleys of humiliati(m or of
death in the end can be crossed by faith, and with al!
its rugged places and trying obstacles it passes through
its Benlah Land of delight aiid its Delectable ]\[ount-
ains to glory. The Avay to heaven is upward, lofty,
and i)ure;and it is the way of the cross, Avithout
the strug^gles and conflicts of Avhich no crown and no
g-lory Avould ever be Avon by the Christian. All earth-
ly honor and glory is achicA^ed by treading the narroAV
path of virtue, toil, and tears; ami if nothing glorious
in earthly rcAvards is ever Avon Avithout a cross, how
much more shall avc Avar and Avork on the narroAV path
to glory for the croAvns and honors of the heaAoidy
world! AVe are not saved by Aval king this Avay. AVe
are saved by entering the gate — Christ; but by our

THE TWO WAYS.

273

walking ou the narrow way, wliich is Christ also, wc
demonstrate our sah.ation hy grace, work it out to
our own satisfaction and develojMuent, nuikc our call-
ing and election sure, and prove by following it to the
end that we are tlie cliildreu of God. Travelino- the
narrow way is the evidence that we have entered the
«trait gate-that is, if we travel it faithfully and fol-
low It to the end. Otherwise, we would prove that
we had climbed over the wall and traveled it in pre-
sumption and delusion. How happy and glorious is
this little narrow i)ath to the travelers home to God'
Iheir very trials, conflicts, and cross-bearings inure
to their manhood in Christ, and every victorv over
sni ami Satan by the way, every escape from I)oubt-
ing Castle off the way, every step of devel(,pment in
the divine life brightens our path over the hills of time
and gives us glimpses of the heavenly city beyond
the dark Jordan (,f death. We have to cross the dark
river at last, but with this last struggle our journey
on the narrow pathway ends, and, like Bunyan's pil-
gnm, we enter in through the pearly gate into the
golden city flooded with the light of God and fllled
with the hosannas and hallelujahs of angels. How
often we wish our journey ended, and that we were
there!

2. But now let us look at the other side of the pict-
ure. There is a big gate, and thousands are enterlno-
It; and there is the broad way, and the "many" are
rushing down it to destruction. This represents the
great caravan gate in the wall of Jerusalem, and the
great highway along which the multitudes could walk
as well as enter. This is the world and the way of
the world, and this gate symbolizes the easy and in-
viting entrance which opens up the way of the world

i I

to everlasting detitli. But let us examine minutely
this big, wide gate and its signilieanee, or meaning,
in theTanguagc of Christ. It indicates that the en-
trance to the way of sin and death has no barriers nor
obstructions. It is e(ix>i to enter, l)ecause we go upon
this broad path in perfect accoi-d with our tastes, ap-
petites, passions, ambitions, ])referenccs, and preju-
dices. This is pre-eminently the gate ol' natural se-
lection or preference, and we enter it in childhood, as,
at the years of accountability, we turn from Christ to
follow the world, the ilesh, and the devil. There is
not the slightest tremble in entering this gate, no sur-
render of self nor any sacrifice of pleasure or sin. On
the contrary, every gratification to sinful tastes, lusts,
and ambitions are offered. 1Miis gate is so wide, beau-
tiful, and attractive that over its arch in tempting let-
ters ai-e written popular mottoes an'd emblematic illus-
trations and seduc'tive advertisements of every vice,
amusement, false religitm, delusive sentinu-ai, bad vo-
cation, and corrupting i)hilos()phy, and Satan stands
there as an angel of light, promising to satisfy every
want of body, soul, and sjjirit along his nnignificent
broad way to destruction. 1 le has something to charm
and satisfy the wise and the foolish, the learned and
the nidearned, the good and the bad, the old and 1
young, the great and the small, and even the i)iouL
and devout soul following the i)hantoms of unspiritual
religion and science falsely so called. Anybody can
enter who wants to, and there is ]n)t a single restric-
tion ]mt, not a qualification recpiired to enter this dev-
il's gate, which opens \\\Km the way to hell. An an-
gel could enter if he wanted to, and nothing would
delight Satan and the world more than to get a true
Christian to go in at this fatal entrance to ruin. All

■ » ,. J 'S.-.''i

■.;-'Pi>y. *;;.,

ilfc-T--,"

. mn%.

■; »

TIIK TWO AVAVS.

275

is merry aiul lusty niui deliglitful to the sensc^s iij)on
entering this \V(n-ltl-Avi(U' gato.

And noAV let us examine llie way a little. Jt is a
hroad, popular, lalilndinarian nnitJ. Any tiling ean
get upon it of any size oi- ]ti'o])oi-tion, religiously,
philosophically, ethieally, or a'sllu.tically ; and so (.f
iniquity, inlideiity, or atheism in the most monstrous
and hideous forms. Satan has a way of keeping
apart things dissimilar in a])i)earanee, however alike
in miture; hut his road is hi-oad enough to aeeouuno-
date every tiling whieh tends to evil and death, wheth-
er ineongruously mixed or separated into classes. lie
can i)ut the w hole world upon this route and keep it
going without a jar or a jostle; and wherever con-
flict by association would tend to work ruin to his
schedule of destruction he knows how to classify and
separate as well as harmoni/e and assimilate.

Again, this road is smooth and well kei)t. It is
finely engineered and worked; and it is kei)t full of
graduated and congenial attractions to satisfy and de-
coy every taste and jn-edilection as the heterogeneous
and yet homogeneous multitude presses on to the end
of the way. God's angels and ministers shriek out
warnings to the thousands doomed in their course;
but the w itcheries of music and the shouts of pleas-
ure and the enthusiasm of worldliness and the intoxi-
cations of business and the rai)ture of pursuit drown
the admonitions of (iod and the cries of conscience.
Comparatively only a few ever awake to their situa-
tion, their delusive caiver of madness, and turn back
to enter the strait gate and the narrow way. Some
find this way of the transgressor hard by leason of
excessive wickedness. They droj) prematurely through
the traps and pitfalls of the delusive way. The great

■il

.. ill

276

THE TWO WAYS.

mass, however, move joyously on in the moderation of
wiclcedness, attracted still deeper by the illusions of
the way, until tliey plunge oft" at the end of life and
at the end of their deceptive road to death.

Finally, this broad road to destruction, this smooth
road to death, is downward and winding; and while
it often appears to rise by undulation it so winds as
to hide the fact that each declension is deeper down-
ward than the one before it. Many a man thinks he
is getting- up in the world who does not dream that he
is sinking deeper down every moment toward hell;
and so Satan manages to deceive thousands as to the
perpetual declension of his broad way. It is perfectly
easy to go to hell, as much so as it is to ride upon a
glass railroad down grade or to slide down hill. AVe
follow simply the trend of our moral gravity in sin,
and every moment of life the sinner is bending down-
Avard toward the bottoudess pit. Only the inflated
balloon rises in spite of downward gravity, and only
the soul converted to Chi-ist and tilled Avith the Holy
Spirit can rise to (Jod and heaven against this down-
Avard gravity to death ajul hell. In fiict, Jesus, the
greater body, turns onr moral gravity the other Avay
Avhen Ave are converted, and, attracted toward him
Avith joy and gladness, as light as the air Ave take the
narroAV i)ath upAvard instead of the broad Avay doAvn-
Avard. Yes, in the nature of things the broad Avay is
dowuAvard, and, like leaping over the aAvful Xiagara,
the sinner at last, gaining momentum at CA-ery step,
plunges into the sAvirling vortex of everlasting despair.

THE PROFESSIONAL LIAR.

^^j^

^>«C-'

IJIIS skotd) i>r('S(Mits, witli flic picture, a char-

t^'^ iic'tei'islif liar. lie dofs not possess the
^' pliysiogiioiny of the malicious, mischiev-

ous, or shuulerous ])crvcrter of the trutli {<)
the injury of others, lie is rather a jolly, big-
mouthed Munchausen, ti rollickin<>- ]\IuIhatton,
who lies witliout motive, and Avho yields to a con-
stitutional idiosyncrasy to exa<^«>erate facts and fi<;-
ures, and t<i create figments and fictions of the
brain. lie represents, liowever, a considerable class
of men and women of all shades and shadoAvs, given
to the habil and business of falsehood, and who fol-
low their vocation as if they enjoyed it, or could not
help it. Some of them tell their lies until they be-
come the truth to them, lost, as they are, in the ob-
livion of forgetful repetition and of conscienceless
persistency. Some lie sim])ly for fini, as we some-
times hear, while others just lie from an .^t-dinate
and innate inclination against the truth. Thj facul-
ty of veracity is wanting, or so feebly developed that
lying is ])erfectly natural, and they prefer to lie even
when the truth would pay them better. If you tell a
remarkable story in the presence of one of these
characters, he will excel yon, and his peculiar facul-
ty for mendacity affords him marvelous ingenuity in

(279)

M i

2S()

THE I'HOI'KSSIOXAL LfAH.

11'

constructing, oll-haiul, the most i)ljuisil)le falji-ications
for deception. Of course u man develops to perfec-
tion along the line of liis genius, and lienco the mar-
velous gift of some liars in conceiving and adapting*-
falsehood to every occasion and cir(Mimstance Avhich
call their habit into i)lay. ^No matter what subject
the i)rofessional liar touches, he is equal to the emer-
gency. If you talk about money, he is Avorth his
millions — or has been — ov else his kin are all rich, or
liave been, or pnmiise to be, and he himself will be a
billionaire before he dies. In the past he has done
many mighty and wonderful works. lie has been
everywhere — traveled the continents, sailed the seas,
fought in :Nrexico and Cnl)a and at Sebastopol, and
can show you his very i)icture in one of the illustrat-
ed battles. He dined with all the sovereigns at the
Paris Exposition, was Ti-ivy Council to the Shah of
Persia for three years, owns a number of houses and
lots in London and Tienna, expects soon to revisit
the Holy Land, and God alone knows all he does
not know and can do all he has not done. For hours
I have listened to these ^Munchausen tales, which
the professional liar reeled oiV without a twinge of
conscience, and with all the air of vivid reality, and
I have wondered why he might not, by some faint
conce[)tion of truth, imagine that a man of some in-
telligence and judgment did not perceive that he was
lying.

Sometimes I have thought that a few of these \)vo-
fessionals bad the lying mania so deeply rooted that
it boi-dered upon insanity, and yet they were so intel-
ligent and clear upon eveiy thing else that I Avas con-
strained to })elieve they Avere either cognizant of their
vice or so blinded or deadened by habit that they

TIIR I'HOFKSSIOXAL IJAK.

281

luul loHt c'oiiHi'iousncsH of their iiiiquliy. Some such
I hiivo known as otherwiso clever Churcli-nicnilH'ix,
who could niiikc jiu cIo([ucnt prayer-meet in <,»• talk, oc-
casionally wouvin^Mlicir licH into piouH discourse, and
then J have wondered more tlian ever at the '' mys-
tery of iniquity." It is said, however, that the
l)reacher8 tell stories— lies, as the heathen call t hem-
when illustrating'- their sermons or wi-itin*,^ up their
protracted meetings, hut the preacher claims the li-
cense of i)ai^d)le and alleg-ory in this line, thoug-li
sometimes we mu.^t admit he i)resses his claim upon
its all fours.

.Again, we sec another species of this class Avho
lie not for fun or fame or wonder, l)ut who ju-rvert
every thing they touch hy e.xaggeratifm— that is, ])y
addition, suhtraction, multiplication, and division. If
they hear a story, they color it and tell it all out of
shape; or if they see with their own eyes, they are
sure to represent a scene or an action in such a dis-
torted form that the truth would never recognize it.
This accounts for all the ])erversions of truth in the
history of events, for these perversions arise out of
the vicious disposition of the liar to change, mag-ni-
fy, minify, or otherwise distort and exaggerate ^icts.
They seem to hate the truth, and their peculiar delight
is to get things out of shape — sometimes in order to
make mischief, hut nu)ri! generally in ohedience to an
inordinate hent of nature which inclines to lie rather
than tell the trral., without any motive whatever. I
met a man, one day, just one hundred yards from the
scene of a dilliculty hetween two men, which he had
witnessed in a lawyer's office, and in which one told
the other if he did not get out l>e would put him out.
He seemed a little excited and amused, his hig- eyes

2S'J

TllK JMIOFKSSIONAU UAH.

r<)IIiM;j^ and H|)arkrni;j;' ixa ho said, "Jim L. kicked
'i\»in K. out of his (»IUc'c awhile a^o, and then kicked
him all up and down the sidewalk;" and on he >vent.
Knowing- the parties, I went on down to the ])laci',
and in<|uii'ed of the kicker the nature of the dillicul-
ty, and wliiit In; had done in the pivunseM. "O!"
said he, "I told 'I'om, who was a little drunk and iu-
snltiny, tliat it' hi' did jiot hehavt; himsell" I would put
him out ol' tlie olllce; that was all."

Of course thei-e are ordiiuii'ily many truthful peo-
ple who will lie under a jjressure, and there are
but lew ])eoi)le in the woi'ld who will not sometimes
tell a lie, in some way and in Home Bhai)e — for lyin^
is a monster of such multitudinous foi-ni, such multi-
plicity of nmnuer, that he ih-voui's thousands of <*'ood
people who think they never lie. A shruo- of the
shoulder, a wink of tl)e eye, a i'acial delineation, the
assnmption of an aii', the t(>ne of the voice, a dodg-e
or a parley, may l)e a great lie. ]t is sur])rising how
many ])eo])le lie hy concealing;- the truth when it
should he told, or by the evasiini of the same; and in
an emer<j;-ency many of the very best })eople will falsi-
I'y, ov whip the devil around the stump. The excel-
lent and fashionable lady who sends w<n-d to the
door by the servant that she is not " in," in or-
der to escape the bore of an nn welcome visitor, is a
liar, althoug-h she labors under the mental reservation
that she is not " in " to see the visitor she does not
Avant to see. The business or professional man, whose
courtesy runs into the slush and gush of dissimulat-
ed love for his customer as a nnitter of policy, is a
liar. The neighbor who says he is glad to see yon
when lie is not, who slurs yon and ta^ks abont yon
behind yonr back, is a liar., All this is ordinary ly-

Till; I'UOFKSSIONAI, \A\ll.

iny, iind re<^ar(k'(l by iiiuiiy an " ji nuct'ssary evil;"
bill tberu is not t'lioii^ii of [H'cssiire or t!iiK'ri;i'iU'y iii-
voiveil tu yive cxc-iise — il' tlicre is su-jii an oxviiise lor
lying — lor tliu i)i!rvt'r.si(jn or fliu ova . >:». of tlic tri'tli.
it wass uihU'I" siicli I'irc'imistaiifi's tiiat Haliab (le-
euivc'd tiic npii's, and was jiistilii^d lor licr liiitli in
that «lu; boru'vcd (Jod. So Jacol) dereivt'd bis latbtT,
and srciii'i'd i\n- p'vdctcrMiiiu'u b]cssin<4, accordinic
to (iod's |)iii|)osi'. So Abrabani di'CH'i\t'd IMiaraob in
ruyard to his wil'c. All ol" tlu-m lied under a pi-i'ss-
urc, but it cannot 1)0 proved that they did rinlit, or
that tbcrc was not souii' otbei" bettei' way to ai'coin-
plish the end j)urposc(l, (»r that (Jod <lid not i)imisli in
some way llieir sin. So, many <>-o()(l ])copk' have lied
since under extraordinary circunistanct's, to avoid
death or serious dillicuities, or to acconii)lish goo'1
ends; butthis is doin*^- evil that good may come, and
it is contrary to Ciod's law. It implies also a want of
trust in God's wisd(»in and i)rotection, and it is con-
trary to that di\ine ])romiso and ])rovidence which
covers with the jegis of divine love all integrity to
God under all circimstances. l^aniel and Joseph
and Job did not lie, nor deceive, nor evade, and God
honored them all the more as they came out of their
fiery ordeals of trial and arniclioii unscathed and un-
spotted from the world. IVter dissend)led, and it
looked as if J'aiil was not iVee j'rom the sin of eva-
sive policy when he went up lo Jerusalem, shaved his
head, and wi'iit to charges, in order to bias the Jews
in his favor; but they won nothing for the same at
the bands of God, wdiatever the emergency, or the
dilemma of duty. In the long run it ])ays best to be
honest and truthful. We can but die for honor, and
death for honor and God is a martyrdom which wins

284:

THE I'liOFESSIOXAL LIAK.

the i-ightcous reward. Good people under ordinaiy
circuiiistaiiees hivve lied, but in the long run they
never niiule any thing- l)y it. Such people are not
eharaeteristic, habitual, intentional, deliberate, nor
constitutional liars; but they lail of their hon.or,
their reward, their glory, in the end, and sutler the
punishment of God here below for their sins, what-
ever their motives. Let Christians do right and tell
the truth, if the heavens fall. It will be all right in
the end, no matter Avhat the emei-geney or the ap-
parent cojisbquences here l)elow.

It may be well to say i-ight here that almost every
liar is made by another liar. The parent that puts off
his or her children nnder false pretenses teaches chil-
dren how to lie. The very myth of Santa Clans is
one of the devil's fundamental schemes for, training
children in the habit of deception, however plausible
and harmless it seems. I have heard a mother, when
her baby wanted something to eat which she did not
desire it to have, tell it there was no more, and after-
ward, in the presence of the child, give it to some
other ])erson. The child then knows its mother has
lied, and her influence for inculcating truth into this
child is gone. These little deceptions are nniversully
practiced npon children by their mothers and fathers
— manufactiuing deceivers out of the young and ten-
der heart thus practiced in the art of so-called white
lying. The merchant teaches the young clerk to lie,
likewise to steal, wIipm falsehoods are told about the
cost of goods, and when false measures or weights are
palmed off upon the ignorant pnrchaser. The slight-
est indirection or ])revarication or i)retense, npon the
part of older i)eoi)le, is detected by children, and the
faintest exam[)le or i)recedent upon our part in this di-

THE riJOFESSIOXAL LIAE.

28;

reetiou is readily followed Ijy the vicious yoiin<^
heart. Some children are disgusted with the indis-
cretion or crookedness of their parents or superiors,
but the great mass of them will copy all the evil
traits, and omit all the good ones characteristic of
our lives. Three-fourths of the lives in the world
are made by their mothers and fathers, tutors and
employers, their older and superior exemplars in
every calling and walk of life; and there is no sin
for Avhich, whether directly or indirecth' committed,
older people will bo held more accountable, as a
matter of inllucnce upon the young. Old folks, be-
ware of manufacturing liars out of your children,
your pupils, or others luider your care.

Finally, the Bible abhors the liar. The devil is a
liar from the begin g, and he is the father of lies
and of liars. ]More than this, among other hideous
and awful sins, lying is put down as one of the damn-
ing vices. Adulterers, wlu)remongers, drvuikards,
railers, and the like, shall }iot inherit the kingdom of
God, and lying is put into the black category of these
crimes. Xothingthat works abomination or makes a
lie will be allowed to enter the (Jolden City. God
hates lying, and there is no character among men
more despised or abominated than the regular liar.
It is the most contemptible of vices — tolerated by
nobody and execrated even in jest. AVe love the
nuin of truth. AVe honor the man upon whose word
we can depend, and whose word is his bond and his
oath; and, whatever other vices he may possess, his
honesty and veracity will cover a multitude of sins
in the eyes of the world at least. There are business
and professional men, laboring men and tradesmen,
farmers and contractors, so-called ladies and gentle-

2S(;

TIIK lM!()KKSSl()NAh I,IAI{.

■'\

iiu'ii, \vli(»iu voii ciimiot Irusl. 'I'hcir wcnl is wortli-
less — olU'ii wlu'ii tlu'v iiiv proli'.ssoi's of iclioiou uiul
nioiiilHTs ol" tlie Cliiircli; jiiul io llic pure iind iipriglit
siK-li cliariU'tt'r.s iwv loatlicd witli iiblionviict' and
disyiist. Worst of all, a liar is aliiiosl bovond rccda-
nialioii. His \ivv hcconu's as im-oiTinihlc as di-iink-
I'luu'ss (»!• lust, and it is si'ldoni hv over rin-DviTs IVoin
lu' paralv/ini;- ,nri|) of his yiant sin.
i^pic'h'tn'^ said, -* Liars arc tlu' cansc of all tlio sins
and c'l-iincs of Ihc world;"' and il" so, liow terrible
ninst be llieir pnnislinient, and who ean wonder at the
learl'nl ij-rasp ol" sneli a sin upon the soni of the per-
petrator ol" all ni'sehiel"? Tvn]y did Jlohnes say:
"Sin has many tools, bnt a lie is the iiandle whieli
lit8 tlieni all." Jt is not stranj-v that Shakespeare ex-
elainied, "Lord, Lord, how is this world yiveii to ly-
ing!" nor is it strange that David eried ont in his
"haste" that "all nu>n are liars." It is perhai)s,
with the exception ol" prid'anity, the most nniversul
sin amono- men. 'i'he first - born ol" mankind was
a miu-derer and then a liar, and from that time un-
til now lyin«>- has been the ])et policy of the world.
]S'o wonder David says that the wi(d<ed are estranged
from (iod Irom their mother's Avomb, going astray • iid
telling lies; and it would be hard to lind a human be-
ing who had not at some time in life blackened his
character with a li(>. All, more or less, learn to lie in
childhood, and pei'ha|)s bnt few have ever grown en-
tirely out of the clutches of this infamous habit. In
all probability there is not an absolutely truthful and
honest man in the world, or that ever lived, and lying
is but one of the black features and sad evidences of
the doctrine of universal and total depravity.

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POV/ER OF TEMPTATION.

>->♦<♦ — —

U will diseovoi' the picture before us as
*^ conceived from the story of jui African

hunter Avhich I read some years ago in
"Ford's Christian liepository." This hunt-
er, accompanied by some natives, went out from
camp one day in search of g-ame. They came
to the skirt of some thick underwood, and suddeidy
a small herd of antelopes darted from the thicket,
whereupon the hunter fired at his game, but without
effect. Immediately a huge lion stepped out from
the buslies and presented himself before the hunter.
The natives all fled, and the hunter was left alone,
with an eni])ty gun in hand, facing the terrible mon-
ster with glaring eye and ready to spring. He attempt-
ed to load his gun; but the lion seemed to recognize
instinctively what a gun meant, and with a deeply ut-
tered growl prepared to spring. The hunter waited a
moment, as the lion seeined to desist; and, wondering
why he did not spring upon him, he again attempted
to reload, but again the fiercely glaring, growlino-
iicm prepared to make his fatal leap. The hunter
soon discovered that the lion did not mean to make a
breakfast out of him; and so he lay down upon the
ground and waited his chances. The truth is that
the lion had already killed and eaten an antelope;

(289)

2i)0

POWKK OF TKMPTATION.

and, bc'in«jf exct't'ding-Iy loud of Iniinan ilesh, he lind dt;-
tonniiiL'd lo hold Ins prey for bivaklast next inoniiug.
All the long-, Aveary day, in tlie hot, broiling 8nn, the
poor luintiT had to lie, not daring- to move, nineh less
to touch his gun. The lion lay upon his haunches
and his jjaws, and sometimes seemed to be asleep:
but the slightest motion of the hunter would open
the burning eyes and stimulate the angry growl.
The lion did not roar in response to his companions,
^vlnch could be heard repeatedly in the distance; lor
ho did not intend to share his dainty meal with any ol'
his neigh1)ors. There he held the hunter alnu)st I'am-
ished and iaiutiug during the day, expecting every
moment to be his last, and but vaguely hoping lor

relief. >

:Night came on, and still the lion did not move.
At last, however, the hunter noticed that he grew
more and more restless. He began to growl and get
npon bis feet; then again he resumed his imsition,
still i-estlesH and growling, as if something was dis-
turbing him. Suddenly he prepared to si)ring upon
him, when from behind a tree near by the natives
with lire-l)alls rushed upon the scene, when the lion
fled to the thicket. " Lt^id the gun, load the gun! "
Avas the cry of the negroes; " for," said they, " he will
soon come l)ack." The hunter innnediately pi-epared
for the beast ; and sure enough he came delibei-ately
back to his position. As he did so the hunter took
deadly aim, and killed him. The negroes had watched
the event I'rom a distance; and, being acquainted with
the habits of the lion, they understood the meaning
of his delay in holding the hunter. Knowing, too,
the fear of fire on the ptu-t of the lion, they as secret-
ly as possilde came up after dark behind the tree and

I'OWKIJ OK TKMI'TATIOX.

291

lVi<^litt'no(l tlic l)eiist with the (ii'('-l)iill.s. This was ix
Kiul and ahnost latiil expfrit'iico to that hunter; and ho
must have evei' renieud)ered it witha shudder oi" lior-
ror. That awful (hiy was enough to turn liini gray;
for such experiences liave been known to silver the
blackest head of hair in one night.

The ai)plicati<)n we wish to ir.ake of this story is
the power of temptation; ibr tenii)tation, like this
lion, often .' ''ds men and women spell-bound and
])0werless Tor days and weeks and months and yeai's.
The devil is u roaring lion, going np and down, to and
fro in the earth, and seeking wh<jm he may devour;
and often he stands before the man unprepared, with
empty gun, and* for the time being utterly helpless
under his spell and his charms. He is like the serpent
that he is, which mesmerizes the l>ir(l or the squirrel
and holds him hel[)lcss until he is I'e.idy to make a
meal of liim, instances of which 1, with others, have
seen, and one of A.hicli I will here relate as told me
once by a reliable gentlenuin friend of mine, a Mr,
Hamilton, who lived in South-western Georgia, lie
was on his way to Dooly County, and at a certain
point on the ror.d he noticed a squirrel sitting on the
trunk of a pine-tree, which did not move as he rode
by. The singular fact struck him, ami lie rode back,
to find the squirrel still sitting in llie same i)osition.
He began to think of the stories he had lieard of the
rattlesnake's charm, and he .began to ride around to
see if this was not a case of charming. He took au
old I'oad which circled around where once a tree had
fallen across the main road, and before he knew it his
horse leaped over a huge rattler lying straight aci tss
the obscure path. He got down, hitched his horse,
picked up a long polo, and struck the snake, which

il ^

292

J'OWKIl OF TEMPTATIOJf.

l\i

had not moved, across the biit'k, l)ut did not kill him.
As he struck the snake the s(|uirrel dnjpped from the
trunk of the tree, springing- iirst into tlie air. He
then left the ser[)ent and examined the scpiirrei, uhich
he found stupefied, but not dead; and going- hack to
the snake he struck hiui another blow across the head
and killed him, the s(]uirrel bonncing np again at the
same lime. He then went back and picked iij) the
squirrel, -which was dying, and the next moment
gasped its last breath. This is a well-authenticated
fact, and such instances have often been witnessed by
others.

Here we have the comjjlete illustration of the devil
as the lion and the scri)ent; and it is said that the
lion has scmiething of the same spell-binding jjowei-,
and that the victim dies painless and benumbed in his
chitches when once sei/.ed. So the devil charms and
benumbs and holds us spell-bound inider temptation.
I once know a good Christian man seized with a strong
temptation, the nature of which I need not mention.
It so ])reyednpon him that his sleep fled from his eyes
and his nervous system became weak and unstrung.
lie wasted in flesh, and it seemed sometimes as if he
Avould lose his mind. He would come and tell me of
his trial, and I prayed with him time and again; and
I have known him to pray for hours and ti-y, by the
help of God, to banish the very thought from his soul.
I have known him also to set out during the day and
try to think only of Jesus by the force of mental en-
ergy and will, and yet he would go back to his temp-
tation under the sjiell and charm of Satan in s])ite, it
seemed, of God. I wonde/ed how it was that God
did not help him in answer to prayer and in support
of his every effort to break his temptation; but so it

I'OWKU OF TKMPTATIOX.

293

was, he did not. Tliis Avcnt on for 8ix niontlis, juid
then for a year, and then for two years, and at hist he
got the victory, at the risk, it seemed, of all lie held
dearon earth and in heaven. T sawhim several times
after the awi'ul trial and alter victory was achieved,
and lie wondered at liis strange fascination, his mar-
velous weakness, and at Avhat seemed to hcCiod's de-
sertion of him, so hmg and helpless in the clutches of
the lion. He said he coidd not, and I know 1 did
not, luiderstand it, and I have thought it over and
over a hundred times and wondered at the prohleni
insoluhle, unless God intended to punish him with his
oAvn weakness for a time, and then give him a complete
and final victory over an awi'ul sin — which he did.

The story of the .Vfrican hunter and his lion has
often occurred to me as I recollected this incident in
the life of a struggling friend whom I knew to be sin-
cere and earnest in his efforts to conquer, and whom
I helped with all my might until the victory was
gained. That man is a useful and happy servant of
God to-day, and when I meet him we sometimes speak
of the trial and rejoice together over the result. It
.takes fire-halls at last to run the lion of hell from his
prey, spell-bound and held by his magnetism; and
nothing short of the Holy Spirit in prayer can turn
the fiery hand of God against him. Sometimes we
cannot say, " Get thee behind me, Satan," as Jesus
did. Sometimes we cannot "resist" him, as James
tells us, that he may "flee;" nor can we always run
from him, as Joseph did. Occasionally, in the dark
valley of temptation, we fight with Apollyon, like
Bunyan's pilgrim, and well-nigh we seem to be slain
by the tempter. IIow^ many a strong Christian has
gotten into Doubting Castle under the grip of Giant

2JM:

I'OWKIl OF TKAri'TATKlN.

De8[)alr! The dilliculfy lies In being uinvali'lil'iil iiiid
unrriiUCiil Joi- long jJeriodH of (hne iiiul in giving eon-
tinu(Ml Indulgence to ease, passion, and ai)|)i'ri(e. AVo
shoot oil" our gun, wo I'ail to ki-epllie poudec ol'graee
(h-y and our gun loaded wilh Jiiith and prayer; and it
is ill these c'onditit)ns that the Tutn ol'liell eoini'S upon
us. it in only in Samson's and J)avid'H.Htrength lliat
we can slay the lion and the bear — in the youtli and
manhood oC religion; but both Samson aiul ])a\id
fell luider the ehanns ol" J)i'lilah and liathsheba, and
tliey were for a long while under the spell ol" Satan
and the Jlesh. The old lion sat over them and <>lare(l
and growled, ])aralyze(l their strength and ])ut out
their eyes until CJod came to the ri'scne. So of Sol-
omon, who died inglorionsly ; and so of I'eter, who
warmed himself by the enemy's lire. The strongest,
the best, the wisest, and the boldest man of (Jod, like
tliese respectively, w hen oil" their guard, when out of
duty and place, when their gnu is empty, nuiy be
sei/cd by the artful enemy of siuds; and the repent-
ance of David and Peter, the inglorious close of Sam-
son and Solomon arc bitter admonitions to every care-
less saint Avho lives or who may read these lines.

I often think of the "nameless proidict," the "man
of God " sent to Jeroboam at liethel. What a vic-
tory be gained as he brcdce down the altar of the
calves, and as he healed the i)aralyzed 1 id of the
king raised against him 1 God told him not to stop
nor eat bread nor drink Avater in that jdace, but to
go <nit another way than the way he came. lie obeyed
so fjir, but be had to stop close by on the way long
enough to be overtaken by the false prophet and de-
ceived back into the city : w here, in disobedience to
God, he ate bread and drank w ater, and received the

IM)\Vi:ir OK TKMJ'TATION.

L'!)a

proijlielu; (loom which Mciit him iiwuy vvitii ii hciivy
lieart towaid a jjomu iio would iicvur roacii. A li(ju
slew him on the wuy, and his hin was kouk; slron^j^
tiMn|)talion lo stop, to liston |)(.'rl)a|)H to the iveilal ol'
his ureal (rinmpii and wonch'rl'nl works Ihat day in
JJelhcl hy tlii! |)assi'i's-l)y. J lis t('m|t<ation slew him;
and while (iod in mei-cy always rcidecms his lu-nilcnt
children, he Homellmes kills them as an example to
disobedience, which evei* makes ns a \)\vy lo Ihe lion,
to tlu^ lion of templalion, which often becomes tho
lion of puidshment and death.

There is a lion ai-ross I'very man's path out of duty,
off the Kin<^'s hi;4hway of holiness. JUmyan's pil-
grim Baw a lion near the road he travel, d, but he was
told in his Tear that the lion wks cluiuied and could
not hurt him if he would move straight on and keep
in the r(»ad. The ])ath of holiness and duty has no
lions across it, but they lie very close to it. Ciet off
the i)ath and yon get into the clutches of the lion —
tho devil. On his knees, with his IJible in his Jiand,
doing the will of God, t'le (Jhristiau is safe, lie may
be tempted and tried even here, but the temi)ter is on
the side of the road, out in the bushes, and he cannot
iiye his charms nor employ his i'orces to hnrt ns if wo
do not go olf to meet him. The ball-room, the play-
house, the saloon, the billiard-table, the horse-race,
tho card-table, bad company — these are not on the
pilgrim's ])atliway. These are the devil's side-shows,
his alluiements to ])iety and zeal, his deadly charms
to holiness and activity; but they never hurt the
Christian who "keeps in the middle of t!<e road."
He may sometimes want to get off and get into them,
hut the i)rayer of faith and the diligence of /eal will
keep him pressing, like Paul, upon the course for tho

U1K>

<>\VK"( i>y IKMI'TATION.

Ixs-i^ieor jjlor), iloofejujif lU'ltlit'i- to flw right nor to tlie
k*l\, t'(»iilt'rriiig not >vitli IIchIi and li(<»oil, with evt'ry
wciylit ami lliL'oaf^ily besot liii'^- sin laid aside, l()(»kiii<jf
t4t Jesu.s. lilt! author a. '1 llnislu'r of our iaitli. 'I'ho
\m$h of duty is lilt' post (if daugi i , hut it is tlio wiiy
of ai)MolMf«* safety if we keep in it nd press on it and
run it out u^) tlie I'ud. It is dauj>:erous even to slop
on it; for whosoever ntops iipou il will likely <^et into
u ]>arley with the devil, nud ^et off of it. 'Vhv serpent
is always ready to eharni tlu! idh' aiul uinvary bird,
but he never catehes him upon the wing-.

Finally, let us learn the imprewHive lesson of the
l)ieture. Keep your powder dry and your gun load-
ed, and Avheu you arc hunting feu* lions, or Turns are
hunting for you, don't l)e shooting at Kmalh'i- game.
Always go armed and loaded in the lion's eonntry,
and iemeud»er that the Christian is always in the land
»)f the lion, the roaring lion of hell, going about seek-
ing whom he nuiy devour, lie always knows when
your gun is emjjty, and when your gun is unloaded
and kej)t so you never km)w where die lion is. You
are oil" guard, and you lorget youi' old adversary, the
devil; but he never forgets you, and is sure to eateh
yon unarmed and unprotected. You may be sure of
that, and you may be sure of another thing: he will
cat you for l)reakfast if God does not run him off.
Grant that this story nuiy be a fable. If so, it has a
mond Keep your ])owder dry and your gun loaded;
don't be shooting rabbits when lions are hunting you.

THE FIVE ASmi/iES.

•—><?<-

:11E at'companying- cut exliiljits five cliarac-
tors, pluvuologically caricatuivd, which
are cm1)nice(l in tiic asiuiuu laiuily.
1, Tlierc's the niaii of asinine conceit,
llis liead, IVoni a .side view, is a little rlioni-
boid-shaped, sloping- back to the rear of the
coronal in the extraordinary development of the fac-
ulty of self-esteem, which runs into conceit, llis
mouth lias a cynical curvature, drawn first up and
then tlown at the corners, indicating- a doubtful realm
between the sour and the sweet of disposition, and
is in perfect accord with his bump of conceit. This
faculty is so extraordinarily develoi)ed, and his char-
acter and conduct in this line so marked and disgust-
in«- that evervbodv Avrites him down as an ass. Xo
matter what liis other faculties arc, or how nobly de-
veloi)ed, this bump of conceit will sticlc out of his
character as it sticks above the bade of his head.
llis long- cars will show up. I heard a distinguished
religious controversialist speak, not long since, and
while he tried otherwise to dis])lay his infinite and
voluminous learning, or dabbling in the same, he
could not refrain from ^elling, or intimating- repeat-
edly, liow learned he was and what a lot of ignora-
muses belonged to the other side of the subject

(■299)

H r 1

' * u

I J 111

In]

\vH\

■r

'A-

300

TlIK I'lVE ASl^INKS.

tlisc'ussL'd. 1 woiulci-ed at the " big 1 " and " little
yoii " until J thono-ht to look at his head, Avhich was
bald and well-i)i-oi,„rtioned, indicating a ntrong com-
bination of the animal and the intellectual; a little
sunken in the region of the moral, but awfully point-
ed and prominent in the bump of self-esteem. I did
not wonder any longer, for 1 saw that the distin-
guished orator and debater could not help, or had
not tried to help in time, his infirmity. He Avas
cliallenged, not long since, to controversy on a cer-
tain question, by a Mr. . Speaking of the

subject before a large audience— disdaining to take
such small game-he said: -In your imagination be-
hold the hce going out to meet a lion ! The lion puts
down his paw, and where is the h'ce?" The fice was

Air. , and the lion was himself!

Uncpiestionably, egotism is asinine. The student
of Latin who wanted to show off before his profess-
or, one morning, by a very pleasant way of saluta-
tion, exclaimed, '^IJffo sum asinus!" intending to say,
"%o mm disciimlus!'' The young fellow, however,
>vas right, and said truly, "I am an ass!" rather
than, "I am a scholar!" and thousands of learned
and unlearned conceits might well introduce them-
selves to the world every day: " I am an ass! " There
is one adAantage conceit ever has, and that is what
the world calls " cheek," and with fair talents and
opportunities the braying ass may make headway
against the world, but seldom against the flesh and
the devil. He is never conscious of shame or embar-
rassment, and will dare to do and tread where angels
would blush and tremble. Self-conscious importance
turns the world's ridicule into imagined commenda-
tion, and he is never afflicted with pain or chagrin,

THE FIVK ASININES.

301

no matter what his bhiiulers or luilures. Jn some re-
spects the conceited donkey is to Ije envied; but his
advantages are greatly counterl)ahinced l)y his disad-
vantages before a lliinking and discriminating world.
In the end and in tlie main scir-conceit proves a i'ail-
ure and a blunder thnnigh lile.

2. The next figure represents laziness. It is the
circular face and head, I'at and chuily, Avitli the mouth
curving upv/ard — lethargic and i)hlegmatic, good-
humored and ha])py, with no dread of famine and
misfortune, with no and)ition for the future, and with
no remorse of conscience for the past. He is the
dull, slow donkey you see beaten and braying along
the street sometimes, ami the force of blows, like the
force of circumstances, have no effect upon him be-
yond the ])resent moment. All his faculties — iutel-
lectual, animal, or moral — have a rounded sameness
of development, and he has no striking or prominent
features of character which give him a salient foi-ce
anywhere in the affairs of life. He may be a fair
merchant, doctor, lawyer, school-teacher, or an intel-
ligent farmer, but he is too indolent to succeed great-
ly at any thing. I remember one such man in my
boyhood. He was a merchant, but he sat and dreamed
in front of his store — large, chuft'y, and pleasant;
could laugh at a joke, but Avas too lazy to tell one —
and while he sat and dreamed of nothing other busi-
ness men were taking his custom from the front door,
while the chickens and ])igs came in at the back
door. He Avould get up lazily and wait on his cus-
tomers, if the clerk was absent, and then resume his
seat. IS'othing troubled him but the flies in summer,
and he was too stupid to fan these away except when
they would get too numerous and annoying — like

iii.

3U2

THE I'lVK ASI^IXKS.

ail ass with a tail, but too iiullfferent to use it. A
few years ago 1 weut back to the city where lie lives,
and 1 saw this iiiau again— gi-owa old and ^vixy, fat
and chuliy still, seedy and poor-and he was sittin-
on a goods-bt.x, sniokin- his pipe, apparently as hap'^
py and contented as he ever was. An earthquake or
a cyclone might stir hlni to action, but no ordinary
circumstance iu life nor phenomenon of nature would
have any etlect upon his nerves. This man also has
his advantages in his freedom from care and in his
absence of ambition, but his disadvantages overcome
his advantages in the great chances and glories of
successful life. His very happiness is that of asi-
nine content seen in the stupid donkey that browses
about on sticks and g-mbs along the barren hill-side;
and he almost fills a blank in the history and develop-
ment of the world, which only gives him sitting-
ro()m. Of the two misfortunes, conceit and lazines\
It is hard to decide upon a preference, but I believe
there is more conscious joy and real worth iu the
former than in the latter.

3. We come now to the third species of the asi-
nine family— the kicker. He has an octagonal head
and lace—front view— with broad and deep-set jaw-
bones and a straight and com]u-essed mouth. The
faculties of combativeness and destructiveness are
most prominently developed, and he is so overbal-
anced in his make-up of belligerency and antagonism
that he kicks upon all occasions and at all things, as
his jaw-bones and mouth would indicate. He is a
" striker," and he strikes square and often from the
shoulder. In otlier words, he is an ass with heels,
and he is always ready to let them fly. In his ridic-
ulous opposition and readiness to kick at everybody

THE riVE ASrxiN'ES.

3o:j

•

and every thing he recciivcs at the hands of the dis-
cerning- public the well-known title, ASS. I have
known several such men in my liib — and they may be
found in almost every comnuniity — l)road, thick-
skinned, heavy-set, square-built felloAvs, having the
characteristics and contour of this figure in the pict-
nrc. They aix> in i)olitics, at the bar, among the doc-
tors, at all business and general meetings, and oft-
en in the Churches. They are great on controversy,
and in their salient angularity and opposition to ev-
eiy thing no question or movement arises against
Avhich they do not kick. I once knew a deacon of
this character in a certain Chui'ch. Xo subject could
be suggested, no enterprise could be proposed, no ac-
tion taken in business, without his objections to it.
He seemed to be boi-n and bred in tlie objective case,
and he died, after having butted and kicked against
the walls of Zion for thirty years. lie was a good
man if you w^ould let him have his way without let-
ting him know you favored his course; but he would
kick against himself Avhen he found that he had
kicked you into his Avay. He was an ass of the most
asinine character, and he AA'as as tough-hided and as
stupid-minded, in his line, as the veriest donkey that
ever brayed. • I am told that in the Zoological Gar-
den of Cincinnati they have tlie stuffed skins of a
lion and an ass Avhich had killed each other in a fight,
the lion biting and clawing the ass to death, and "the
ass biting and kicking the lion to death in the same
conflict. One Avould hardly think it. but if yon im-
agine for a moment that some asses cannot kick the
life out of even a lion, you are mistaken. They can
kick the life out of - Church, scatter the forces of a

u political party, and tuni a connnunity ui)side doAvn.
20 "^ ^

:u) I

TiiK I rvro AsixrxEs.

Bt'ware of that species of llu- d.siini.s lH'I()ii^nn<;- to
tlie ku'kiii";- ianiily. All business iiiid in-orL'ssional
nuMi know of him — shun hini; and Hkm-c is l)ut one
way to kill him. It takes a whole community to
combine a,i;ainst him, and even thcji he nniy kick the
life out of lialf of them before :he job is linished.
The kickin<j;' ass h;is jtower, and the very vigor and
thorouglmess of his character and callini,'- make liim
friends who stick to him through fear or admiration
of liis extraordinary incorri,:;il)lIity and enterpi-ising-
pugnacity.

•4. Look now to the fourth ligure in the illustra-
tion. This is the stubborn ass — somewhat akin in
l)r(>i)ensity to the last, but not of so belligerent a dis-
positi(m. His lace is the diamond — front view — with
"long, wap]»er-jaws,'" his head running ii[) ii> (he re-
gi(m of the nioi-al laculties into a cond), lilce the rool'
of a house; his cheek-bones very high, his mouth
concaved downward; thin-skinned, sensitive, and
sour. He is a sullen, determined ass, ever set back
n])on his haunches, and while he does not kick much,
he i)ulls against the post until the lines or his neck
breaks, or the ))ost pulls u\). J lis faculty of lirmness
runs into inordinate stubbornness by inordinate and
abnormal development and protuberance, and if once
he sets his liead, right or wrong, from conviction or
])rejudice, from pride or i)rinciple, nothing short of
divine ]M)wer can change him. Even when convinced
of wrong, be will not altei;. 'J'he angel tJabriid
would have no intluence over him. I'ears, groans,
cries, supplications, sull'erings — all are vain to move
him when once his head is set against you, right or
wrong. 1 once knew an old sister whose head and
fi\ce were nnnle on this order. She was a member of

TIIK KIVK ASIMNKS.

;}()5

tlu' C'liurt'li 1(» wliich I prciU'lu-d, jiiid she was u /^ood
woinau so long as things \\ imiI Uvv way, but when you
crossed the okl hidy's patli she l)e;L;an lo pnll a<;ainst
you. On one occasion she invited a brother minis-
ter and myself to sujjper, with a view d" havin-^- us
talk with lier husljand, who was an unconverted
num. After su])|)er we g-ot into a conversation, and
tlie husbaiul, bein,-;- a shrewd, Jolly fellow, diverted
conversation in various ways in order to avoid any
thing seriously touching i-eligion. Someliow we got
into a discussion (»f the dog, and my I'riend, being
something of a naturalist, gave; a humorous idea of
the dog's tail being his rudder, which enabled him
to walk a log, and without which he could not walk
the log at all. This disgusted the old lady with that
preacher, and there was no argument nor })ersuasion
after that by Avhich she could ever be led to forgive
him or hear him preach again. I came near being ru-
ined to hei- on the same occasion myselC; and several
times, in other matters, I had to avoid trouble by
not pulling against her. So I have experienced the
same thing with other good men and women thus
abnormally dcvelo|)ed; I have seen life-long aliena-
tions and feuds and disasters in families aiul com-
munities at the hands of stubborn, unreasonable, and
unyielding people. Stul)bornness seldom or never
forgives; and if it does, it never forgets. It is al-
most im[)()ssible to see how such dispositions ever
get converted, or how they ever get to heaven.

5. Lastly, I come to the fool ass. He has the oval
face — front view; his forehead is low and his eyes
arc far up on his sloping brow; his mouth is a broad
medium between the straight and the curved, and
his lips are thick and heavv, and he has more beef in

I ¥

K.
•ill

) U f

ill

30(i

TITK nVK ASIMXKS.

his I'acc tlmn brains \n his leatlicr lu-ad. lie usually
makes himself an ass for the Avaut of sense, and
thoiiyli sometimes sloueli}' and unkempt, he is gen-
erally 8een in the shape of a dude, lie is the fellow
"with a one-eye <;lass, (hvssed in the latest style of
liis kind, s])()rting- his cane from the middle, and
Avalkin<f in all the lofty yHnn\) and swell of his sense-
less dignity. lie shows the white of his soulless eyes
from below, g-lancing- upward into nothingness, and
his arms and his knees go akimlx), sans custom, sans
sense, sans nature, lie cuts a big figure in society
on account of his elothes or his father's bank
account; but he is only admired by those of his
kind, lie is a fool and an ass — always cutting an
asinine figure and letting off his asinine mouth in
the world; and he is the sport and the ridicule of all
sensible jjcople. One of them got aboard a Lon-
don train of cars going to Liverpool, lie wondered
that evei-ybody did not know him — Mr. John Brown,
conunercial traveler from London! He was smoking
a cigar Avhen a lady got aboard. She showed that
slie was offended, but eould not get out of the little
coach. "Ah!" snid he, "I'm sorry; Imt do you not
know me?" "Xo, sir!" was the short reply. "I
am ]\rr. John Brown, commercial ti'aveler from Lon-
don." After awhile two other ladies got aboard, and
they did not seem to notice Mr. Brown. He en-
deavored to introduce a conversation, but the ladies
remained quiet. "Well, ah! do you know me? I
am ]\rr. John Brown, commercial traveler from Lon-
don!" Shortly the train passed a field where three
donkej^s were grazing. "Ah! what are those? " asks
Mr. Brown. One of the ladies (piickly replied:
"Commercial travelers from London!" They hit

7w:

TIIK FIVK ASINI.VKS.

;3()7

tliL" nail on the head, and ]\Ir. Urown was nilently in-
dignant, liaving 8ense enough to sseo tiio point wlicn
he WUH indirectly ealletl an ass. All asses are fools
in some sense, but it is dreadi'ul to be an ass for the
want of sense. We see these asses everywhere — in
society, in the legislature, in politics, in business,
and sometimes in the pulpit— always letting oil" their
mouths in the wrong place, and ever cutting antics
at which evei-ybody but the ass blushes. You will
generally find him in the likeness of the i)icture I
have drawn oi' him.

But I mnst bid adieu to the long-eared lamily.
There are other specimens of the species, but J have
said more than enough in those sketches to give a
hint to those not mentioned. The unfortunate part
of it is that the donkey seldom or never sees himself
as others see him, and cannot be made often to so see
liimself. Stupidity is the nature of the beast, and
the cudgel, the only instrument by which ho can be
impressed, is soon foi-gotten. Nevertheless, a little
education of this chai-acter may be of service to the
yoimg — the " wild asses' colts" — wdio nuiy come across
these lines. There is no hope for the old thorough-
breds. Train up the young asses in the way they
should go, and when older grown they will not do as
asses do.

lif I

It * I
,k;i

^t^i

SiCien-." -i'i>l.J/.^ V-a^L^l

Strain out a Gnat. Swallow a Ga/ael.

-^>+<- —

\VA\Vj is anotlier pliaso of liypocrisy — one of
ll^,^) llio c'liior cliiiriusteristics of the Pliarisees.
M^'Sd J, J jinolhcr pictiiro "we sec the liypoerite
with a l)c'am in liis own eye and i)icking- a
mote out of liis brotluu-'s eye. Tliis was an il-
ustraliou of optical surgery at tlio hands oC -
liypoerite, Init now we come to a gastronomic feat
worthy of tlic most gigantic gornnindi/er. lie strains
out a g-nat and swallows a camel, which finds com-
fort al)le cpiartei'S in his capacious maAV.

Jesus said to the scribes and I'liMrisces: " AVoe nnto
you, scribes and Phnrisees, hyi)()crites! for ye hjiuit
up the kingdom of heaven against men: for ye nci-
tlier go in yourselves, neither suH'er yo them that ai-o
entering- to go in. AVoo unto you, scril)es and Diar-
isees, hy])ocrites! for ye devour Avidows' lunises, and
for a ])reteuse make long prayers : therefore yo shall re-
ceive the greater damiuition. AVoe nnto you, scribes
and l*]iarisees, liypocritesi for ye compass sea and
land to nnike one proselyte, and when he is made, ye
make him twofold more the child of hell than youi--
selves. . . . Woe nnto yon, scribes and Phari-
sees, liypocrites! for yo pay tithe of mint and anise
and cummin, and have onutted the Aveighticr matters

of the law, jmlgmcnt, mercv, and faith: these onght

cm)

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Pli

SI UAIN OUT A V iT, SWALLOW A CAMKL. 'Ml

yo 1o have done, and n»»t to leavo llio otlicr nndoiic
Ye Mind f/itidcs, which strain out a gnat, and swallow a
camel. AVoo nnto yon, scribes and riiarisocB, hypo-
critcsl for ye make clean the ontslde ol'llie eu]) and of
the i)hittei', Init witliiii lliey aie full of exlorlion and
excess. . . . AVoe nnto yon, scribes and iMiari-
Bees, hyi)ocrites! for ye are like unto -whited scj)!!]-
chers, ^vhicll indci-d appear beautifid outward, bnt
■\vithin ai'e full of dead men's Ijones and of all \uiclean-

Jiess

rhis is tljo most terrible arraij;-nment ever made of
a class (d' people ocenjjvin/j; ho hi,i;li a position of
honor and respectability in relij^ion, society, or gov-
ernment. In fact, nothing- A\<>rse coidd have been
said of any other class (d' men in any oilier ])osition.
Shntting np (iod's kin<j;(lom against those who would
Avillingly enter, devoui'ing- the enbstance of Avidows,
tiu'nin^ the hard-nuidc proselyte into a worse devil
than themselves, leaving' undone the weightier matters
of tlio law, full of extortion and excess, whited sepnl-
chers full of rot.enness and dead men's bones!
AVhat a tei-rible catalogue of crimes, and what an
uwfnl series of denunciations in detail 1 And yet
these scribes and Pharisees were the most scrupu-
lous, pnnctilious, and exact observers of all the forms
and ceremoiues of religion. They were the most zeal-
ously devoted of all peo])lc to their creed, as such; so
much so that they Avould compass land and sea to
make one proselyte to it. They Monld pay tithes of
mint, anise, and cummin, the smallest and most insig-
nificant shrubs of the giU-den.

If one of them touched a heathen in the market-
place, he would Avash himself all over as defiled. Itis
said that if one of t'leni had drawn his handkerchief to

s ;1

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312 STKAIX OUT A GXAT, SWALLOW A CAMEL.

wipe his lace at the inoiiient the Sabhath entered the
lists of tlie week he would not even so much as touch
his lace or put it l)ack in his pocket until the Sabbath
was past, ^ever were there such extremes of char-
acter and conduct recorded in men. If they prayed,
it was upon the house-top8 to be seen of men; and if
they g-ave alms, they blew a trumpet to be heard of
men. Their religion was the very refinement of self-
righteousness and hypocrisy, and they regarded God
as under obligations to them for being better than
other men, for paying tithes of all the}' possessed,
while their pride and ambition was to enjoy the praise
of men, their only reward. They were guilty of the
most depraved and corrupt lives, and yet they were
exceedingly exact and particular in the doing of lit-
tle things. Justice, mercy, faith, love, holiness — all
these they ignored and trampled under foot; but they
Avould pay tithes of the grass which grew in their
yards. Thoy Avere grand in doing little things for
good, but they were monstrous in doing big things
for evil. Their fathers could murder God's prophets,
and they would build sepulchers for them. They
strained out a gnat, and swallowed a camel. This is
the awful picture. Truly did Johnson say, "IIj^poc-
risy is the necessary burden of villainy ; " and nowhere
does his proposition find such startling illustration as
in the scribes and I'harisees. Perhaps nothing in
modern times, in no age of the world, ever equaled or
suri)assed their hypocrisy; but we often see chips from
that original block in every phase and grade of socie-
ty, even in the Ghurches of Jesus Christ. We find
men and women scrupulous about little things, yet
negligent of weightiei' matters. There is "the devil
at home and the saint abroad." How exquisitely po-

STKAIX OUT A <;.\AT, SWALLOW A CAMEL. 313

lite and mincing- at your tabic! but at lioine she
munches and champs and eats with her lingers; and
so do '" dear George and the children." Every thing- is
"darling" and "precious" to the visitor or the stran-
ger, but when the curtain falls sn- the scieen closes,
the silvery veil of Mokanna is off, and the devil is at
home. The chiklreu are spanked and slapped about,
and the little ones, trained to hypocritical politeness
in i)ublic, quarrel and light and l)awl among each
other. " l^ear " CJeorge " cusses " reverently and sys-
tematically when angered, and "precious" l^illie
scolds and scowls and cries, and is always going home
to her father. Nothing goes right at home half the
time, and often the sacred i)lace is but a bedlam of an
uproar; yet how deliciously sweet every thing is at
church ov at the party or on the cars! \rhat an ele-
g-ant and amiable family they are! and one would
think the honey-moon liad never waned, but waxed,
ever since the wedding-da}'.

Iluiulreds of families, more or less, are little schools
of educated hypocrites — a fact which would never be
known but for the servants and the children, who
all agree sometimes tell tlu^ truth. Quite oi'ten it is
only one of the cou])le who is the devil at home and
the saint abroad — oftenest the num. lie is a tyrant,
a cold, sullen bear, who seldom speaks a kind woi-d
to wife or children, reads the news])aper and smokes
his cigar when he stays; or, when home becomes a
bore, goes to the club or elsewhere. He makes a lit-
tle hell of the family abode, for it is not a " home "
when something goes wrong. A button off, a string
bi-oke, a paper misplaced, the least disconcerted, he
breaks forth in jiassionate ebullitions; and the atmos-
phere becomes lurid and sul])huric with profanity and

' fell

31i STKAIX OUT A UXAT, SWALLOW A CAMKL.

'Hi

abuse, and yet abroad be talks about liis " darling
wife " and " little jewels."

Sometimes it is the wile who is the termagant, and
the poor, ben-pecked husband lives in tlie murky realm
of scowls, scolds, and lectures. If be is i)atient and
manly, or if he is submissive and lamb-like, the world
never knows it; but when she swings, out upon the
arm of hci- " precious " you would imagine she was an
angel guardian to her loving lord. In any event, such
l)eople are externally precise and punctilious in t!ie
little amenities and etiquet<-e of life, while the weight-
ier matters of purity, politeness, and happiness of
home are unknown. They strain at gnats and swal-
low^ camels. Sometimes such families make a pre-
tense of religion. Xot unfrequently they read the
liilde and hold family i)raycr. ]S^ot long since a fa-
ther got mad at one of the children right around the
family altar, and cuffed its jaws. The wife got mad,
and slajiped him. He threw the Bible at her, and
would have knocked her down. All was smiling and
sweet, however, next Sunday morning at chui'cb, and
the family pew^ was a])parently full of song, praise,
devotion, and attention.

Again, there is old Deacon Jones. He sits in the
"Amen corner," sings with a loud bass voice, leads
in the ])rayer-meeting, and is prominent in all the bus-
iness affairs of the congregation. lie is Avorth a hun-
dred thousand dollars, and he gives liberally to the
cause, and witb a fiery zeal he is up in all the ortho-
dox princi])les and ])ractices of the denomination. He
is exceedingly scrupulous, exact, and nice about every
thing in the house of God. He would send a sinner
to perdition for spitting on the carpet, and if he knew
that bis pastor smoked a cigar in his study be would

STRAIX OUT A CIXAT, SWALLOW A CAMEL. 315

prel'cr charges against him and dismiss him from the
pnlpit. lie would not dance or go to the theater or
pkiy cards for all the world, and on Sunday he is at
liome all day or at chui'ch, engaged in religious devo-
tion anil service. Deac(jn Jones is ever austere and
supercilious, and without condescension. External-
ly he is in every respect a Pharisee; but he is a law-
yer, doctor, merchant, manui'acturer, broker, or bardiei",
as the case nniy l)e. S(inire Jones took the case of a
l)oor wonuui who sued for a claim, and he got about
all the widow had belore the delayed case got through.
Dr. Jones attended the case of a poor, sick family,
and because they did not have the fee to pay him be-
fore he left the house he refused to take the case.
Merchant Jones has been known to "sand his sugar"
or "goose his cotton." ]Manufacturer Jones pays
poor Avomen a dying ])ittance for making clothes.
Banker Jones shaves notes and grinds a needy friend
with exorbitant usury.

lie strains out gnats every day, and gulps down
camels, and nol)ody who knows hini has any conli-
dence in hiui; but he has nu)ney and position and re-
si)ectabiUty thereby in Church and ccnnnumity. He
is a valuable citizen, a punctilious Church-member,
a social and religious ornament, and all the talk and
scandal in the woi-ld about his vwn imeas ^ocs for noth-
ing. You say this is a strained and inniginary case;
but I reply that 1 have kiu)wn a nund)er of such men,
and everybody else has seen them in almost every
neighborhood and community. They shout and cry
"Amen!" in the ^SFethodist Church; they look elderly
and solemnly awful in the Presbyterian Church; they
blow and bulldoze in the Baptist Church; they read
the service among the Episco^ialians; they run whisky-

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tilG SI UAIX OUT A GXAT, SAVALLOW A CAMEL.

saloons among tlio Catliolics. They are overywliere,
the (sanie in all denoniinaLions and among- all creeds;
and they arc especially the ontgrowtli of a loose, pop-
ular, wealthy, and worldly-seeking ecclesiasticisni.
'JMiey always appear when there is no i)crsecution,
when the Church becomes a profitable investment, and
"svhen religion walks in golden slippers.. In times that
try men's souls, when the cross becomes the nnirtyr's
syinbol, the Pharisee seldom appears, except in the
honest delusion of sell-righteousness.

Sometimes we find the Pliarisec among the preach-
ers and among tlie good sisters in the Church; but
this is rare, for the lack of opportunity to phi}' the
dishonest game of hy})ocrisy. I knew one good old
sister who could shout, get liai)p3', sing, and pray in
l)ublic, especially when the revival Avas on. She was
charitable, made a good visitor to the poor and the
sick, and slie had a perfect hori'or of the little sins
and foibles of the young })eople. Nevertheless, she
would jew a negro an hour for the difference of a
nickel in the ])urchase of a load of wood or a barrel
of potatoes; and she would sell off old clothes or fur-
niture to the darkies at exorbitant prices. ITer rule
of life was to get all she could for as near nothing as
])ossible, and to get for almost nothing double its value.
AVorse than this, she would talk about her neighbors,
qui/ and draw from the servants the secrets of her
friends, and she could almost tell what you had for
breakfas| every morning. She was scrupulously hon-
est in telling the truth, but she w^as ever dead to find
out something scandalous and keep it going. There
never was a fuss in the community about Avhich slic
did not know every thing, and but few at the bottom
of Avhich she Avas not the cause. She Avas to all ap-

STRAIN OUT A GXAT, SWALLOW A CAMKL. 317

pearauec-s a good woiuan, and yet she was a hypocrite
of the deepest dye. She religiously strained ont a
gnat every hour, but slie was perpetually swallowing
the devil's camel.

According to Pollok it seems that this sin is par-
ticularly characteristic of an age of wealth and cult-
ure, so favorable to the development of Pharisaism
under every phase and form. Listen to the poet's de-
scriptive chaiacterizati(m:

It was withal a highly polished age,
And scrupulous in cerenionious rite,
When stranger stranger met ujjon the way
First each to each bowed most rpsy)eetfully,
And large profession made of humble service,
And then the stranger took the otlier's purse;
And he that stabbed his neighbor to tlie> heart
Stabbed him politely, and returned the iilade,
Reeking into its sheath, with graceful air.

;N'ever was there a more favorable period to hypoc-
risy, especially in the Churches, than the i)rescMit age.
AVhenever religion walks in golden slii)pers, becomes
popular and wealthy, iashionable and i)oweri'ul, then
multitudes seek it for the worldly beneiits it may con-
fer. They hunt for the loaves and fishes where the
multitudes get fed, and hence hypocrisy under every
form is multi])lied. Luxury, riches, and cultiu-e re-
fine; but, without virtue and i)urity, they often be-
come the refinement of iniquity under the plausible
guise of religion. Like the Jews in the height of
their i-efinement and culture, Ave tend to Pharisaism
in the nature of things; and to-day many of our most
splendid sinners are in the Churches. It has often
been remarked here in Xashville, as in other cities,
that the cause of religiim is depreciated and despised
by many because of thei)rominence and power of rot-

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318

STKAIX OIT A (;.VAT, SWALLOW A CAMKL.

ten Clmivli-iiioinbors ofeu]\viii<^- front scats and in-
fluential })()siti(»n, ivtainc'd and i'o.stL'i'cd because of
their money, lil)eralily, and social imwer. There are
Churcli-members ofthis characlei- whose private lives
would disgrace a worldling of less influential ])Osition,
and yet they are hiding ])eliind the mask of public
hypocrisy, ])osing as sheep, but they, are wolves in
sheep's clotliing in liie flock of the J^ord .Jesus Christ.
However, this is another jjhase of Pharisaism and hy-
pocrisy; and, like the mote-liunter and the gnat-strain-
er and the camel-swallowcr, should l)e treated under
a si'pai-ate head. So of the trumpet-blowei', the sanc-
timonious faster, the house-top prayer, and a host of
others too numerous to mention.

In nmny instances of our day, liowever, a man does
not have to play the hypocrite toi-euiain among (iod's
people. Some of our Churches are so loose in disci-
pline, so anxious to count n(jses, so gi-eedy for wealth
and social power, that one need not act the hypocrite
of any character if, he is liberal, influential, and hon
ton. He can do just as he })l(uises Avithout masking
his wickedness, and the Church, as such, is nearer the
hypocrite than the indulged and i)etted member.
jMauy of our ])reachers now openly and boldly pro-
clainx that no man should ever be excluded from the
Church unless he gets into the ])enitentiaiy, or should
be hanged for murder or some other diaboliccd crime.
Too late then.

Pf-

! I

^^^^H '

•MoSl

li:

THE LITTLE FOXES.

-<'<--

-11 IS picture jji-escnts tlio true Vine, rcprcsent-
^ ing- Christ, >vitli its fruitlul brandies, rep-
I'esenting- Christians; and the fruit of
these branches is being destroyed and the
ines devastated by the little foxes. Solomon
aid: " I'd/ie vs the foxes, the liUle foxes ihat spoil
the vines: for our vines have tender f/rapes.'^ Every Chris-
tian is regarded as a branch, a little vine in the true
Vine, bearing fruit unto God; and every small sin is
a little fox which sjioils the branches b}^ tearing them
a])art and by devouring the grai)es, a fruit of which
the fox is especially fond.

It is not the Avolf in sheep's clothing, not the howl-
ing jackal, not the hyena nor the tiger of monstrous
sins which are here symbolized. iS«^ot even the old
and wily fox, like Ilerod, whom Ocsus so character-
ized; but the little foxes, the small sins, are evidently
meant. However small or young these little foxes, or
sins, may be, they have the vulpine nature and pecul-
iarities about them. In other Avords, they are cun-
ning, and they come upon us slyly and unexpectedly,
and they are ravaging and destroying onr vines before
we are aware of it. According- to the figure, the big
foxes would not come until the little foxes first got
among the branches. In fact, these same little foxes

(321)

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ill

ir'i

i>N

3'2'2

TllK UTTLE FOXES.

grow and ftitteii into h\g foxes as they continue to
It'L'd upon " our vinoM," jind it does not take them lon<^
to mature to full size. The little sin well fed and
long nourisliod outgrows any other beast in the
soul's nienagt-rie, and it is the hardest of tlieni all
to Ivill when it gets grown.

Let us now examine a few of these little I'oxes,
which so I'apidly and surely become big ones:

Take proj unify. A boy does not often begin with
downright swearing in the name of (iod. He shud-
ders at a blasphemous oath the lirst time he hears it,
if he has been tenderly and properly trained, and he
begins with little "by-words," which gradually swell
and fill out to full and rounded profanity. Sometimes
these diminutive oaths in end)ryo run I'or a long time
before the amateur swearer becomes sulliciently hartl-
ened to advance in sacrilege, and then he is prepared
to employ stronger and more conrprehensive terms in
the line of his profane development. He gets to where
he can lightly take the name of 'Slesus Christ" and
of "God," and when he can add on the adjuncts of
" damn" and " devil " and " hell " without a shudder
of compunction he has acquired at last the qualifica-
tions of a first-class blasphemer. The little fox, " by-
word," becomes the great, big fox of " curse and
swear" in the name of God; and it is sometimes the
case that we hear ten-year-old boys on the streets
belching and vomiting out blackguard vulgarity and
the most glaring and daring profanity.

Take Iijinff. It seems almost natural for people to
lie; but there are thousands of children who at first
would stand horrified at the idea of telling a false-
hood. The well-trained little conscience revolts at
the suggestion; but it does not take long, Avith bad

TllK LITTLK TOXKS.

;}ii:]

company and ill advice, to taint and conUiminate the
very ))est of cliildren. They see (jtlier ehihlren do
wron<>- Miul lie, and iiidess m kept as to ivmaiii dis-
gusted at their conduct tliey will soon venture to im-
itate by evasion or dodgiug- llie truth — a lesson easily
learned and a habit readily IoimkhI. The little " white
lie" becomes the prog-enitor of the big black lie; and
by the sure and steady process of growth in evil the
purest young heart, the sweetest young lips will be-
come ibnl and lilthy Avitli the hideous and i)()lluted
vice of lying. Under evil training and association
the little i'ox will not he long in becoming a bold and
barelaeed Jalsiher. The little circular dodge is soon
reduced to the big scpiare lie. The little evasive shift
soon takes the cleai', o])en forthright into the l)road,
plain boulevard of shameless, blushless i)revarica'lon.
Very snniU children in almost every family and Sun-
day-school are otten very big liars; and the founda-
tion of every crooked, pervei-sc, and untow ard career
is thus laid in falsehood, amid the rose-beds of once
innocent and happy childhood.

Take stealing. AVith many children to touch what
is not their own would be like touching a hot iron.
They have been trained to truth, honesty, and i)urity
of life; and yet many a thief is manufactured out of
just such material. "Evil communlcati(ms corrupt
good nnmners," and many a noble little s])irit has been
led by bad company to unlearn the Avell-taught dill'er-
ence between " mine and thine." The little boy learns
from others to take his mother's sugar, to pick the
apples from a neighbor's tree, to purloin his father's
pennies — all inider the conception that it is not much
harm and that other boys do likewise. The little fox
of petty theft becomes the big fox of felonious rob-

p t: 1

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It lL'.>

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324

TIIK LITTLK FUXKS.

itii

sfi fi!

St . .issd

bcry alter uwIuIl'. Jjiirfcny iVoiii tlio [jcrsoii nms into
biii'gliiry, and iVom llic jail lliu cdinict ^ocs l(» tlio
pfiiitt'iitiary, and pt'riiaps at last t(» tlu' ^^ihhct Inr mur-
dc'iiiii;' his ni'i^lilx)!' lor yokl. lV'rlia|)s tla- inurdci't-r
was oiu'c an innocent lK)y, who tliongiit it not a <^rcat
wrong one day to take; a pin ivhich ho fblt was no
loss to the owner and a gain ol" little eonse([iienee to
hiniseli". The prineiple whieh nteals a pin or a nickel
is the sanu! which takes a million, and the cnhninatin«i-
corrnption which linally dethrones honor and life he-
gins in tlie \ery least and first .sin which started the
ever widening and deei)ening stream of vice and crime.
Dcstrnction begins in valuing Bin according to the
quantif// of damage, and not according to the qiiaHtiioi
crime. Take care of the little fox of false valuation
according to the (untjunt and not the esfyence ol" wrong.
From this little fox of ])i'inci])le and practice springs
the big fox of result and ruin.

Take your temper, ^^'hat a tempest or a tornado it
gets to be with some peoj)le! AV as it always so? Aot
Avith every one. How did it reach such a rash and
wrathful pitch in life? 'i'he little foxes did it. That
mother was once a sweet and amial)le young lady.
The little vexations and ills of life have been allowed
to aggravate her into a ternnigant. The chiklren, the
cooking- stove, tbe house-cleaning, the odds and ends
of making and mending, the ceaseless I'onnd of iluties
and toils in which a wonuili's work is never done, in-
stead of inuring to ])ati(nce and Ibrtitude by culture
and forbearance, have developed all that was opposite
and salient in her soul. Xovv she is a terror to her-
self, to lier family, and to her neighbors. She cannot
broolv o]iposition, obstacle, or inconvenience, much
less affront or variance; and she is sensitive, nervous,

"rr

Till'- LITTI-K I'OXKS.

•,V2:)

impiitU-nt, rcHi'utl'iil, iiud ivstk-ss in tlu; <lisc'liiir«>e of
livt-ry tliity and I'l'lationslilp f^lie sustiiiiis. lliiviiiL;"
<>'LVCM ^vay by (li'<;ri'cs to an i-vil li'Mipcr nntil it lias
sn|tri!nu! dominion ovci' iicr body, nnnd, and sonl, slic
is as luui'li till! wrt'ck of 1)ad iiai)it as tiu; drnnkard of
tilt! oi)iuni-L'utt'r. lUv little foxes have all become
<^rown-n|) jackals, and altliou<>h she [)rofc'Hses religion
and belongs to tlie ( 'linrcli, the gi'ace of (rod seems
scai-ct'ly able to liel]) licr, especially as she does not
help the grace of (iod to hel[) her teni[)ir. So have T
(Seen ttiachers and i)reachers, bnsiness and [irofession-
al men, ^vhose hot and imiiatient tempers have lost
tlu'm iinally all control of themselves or of others.
lie that does not ])ossess his sold in patience iind et(na-
nimity will not be long in losing [)ossession of every
thing else.

Take yonr toiif/iw, that inu-nly mend)er of which
James warns ns. With some people it is tnrned loose
at both ends, and i)lays upon a })ivot in the middle, as
elastic as India rnbbt>r ami as drastic as aloes. They
have become habitnateil to talk lii'rcely or recklessly
about every thing and everybody, and scandal and
slander atui exaggeration and blasphemy are the big
foxes w. IK II have at last developed from the tittle-
tattle of the little gossip of early days. The snndl
whispers of evil thoughts and imaginations, once char-
ily and warily sulfei'ed to enter the mind about per-
sons and things, have groAvn to the whii-lwind of
wholesale and retail slaughter upon every tiling and
everybody in the way of th« ir linguistic cyclone.
The innuendo has become the sharp, two-edged sword
of loud and bitter vituperation and contumely, cut-
ting asunder soul and body and iVierciug betwixt the
joints and uuutow of your reputation and character;

M.!'

320

TlIK LITTLE FOXES.

and so of every principle and practice, ideal or con-
ee])tion, characteristic or virtue wliieli distinguishes
neighbor or society or business in conflict Avith those
■who have cultivated this big, talking fox which rav-
ages the vines of our peace and prosperity in almost
every community. Alas for the unruly and uncon-
trollable tongue of many people! Their voice is like
the sound of many waters, and like a flood of Avaters
their Avords often overwhelm us with griefs and mis-
eries untold. The most provoking, aggravating, vex-
atious, all-iired, and i-ing-iired curse a man must en-
dure is a well-trained and fully developed tongue in
the mouth of a full-fledged, malignant persecutor.

In a thousand ways the little foxes spoil the vines
with us all. The little sins ruin our lives. The " bees "
worried Dnvid more than the " bulls of Bashan; " and
it is in these little vexations, as well as little sins of
life, that we oftenest allow ourselves overcome. Many
a man who is able to bear a great misfortune or resist
a great sin or endure a great provocation cannot sus-
tain a little disaster, overcome a little temptation, or
stand a small affront, especially when these little ills
come in a multitudinous form. It is the moth that
destroys the bee-hive, not the martin that catches the
bees. It is the craw-fish wliich oftenest undermines
the levee, not the flood which sweeps over it. An in-
finitesimal insect has been discovered in Germany
which eats out the iron rails upon the track and de-
stro3^s them more eftectually than the friction of the
mighty engines and trains which run over them. We
guard more ])articidarly and are better pre])ared to
meet the great difficulties and sins of life; but the
little ones, like an army of ants, may be all through
your house before you know it; and an army of ants

THE LITTLE FOXES.

327

in your house is harder to destroy than a lion at your
door. You can make a fence so strong and high as
to keep your neighl)or's bull out of your corn-field,
and the prudent farmer always docs this; but the mole
may trace your rows of young corn and kill your crop
in a night. So may the crows and the blackbirds in a
day. We look out for big Ibxes and provide against
them if we are prudent men and women, but we too
seldom watch for the little ones until it is too late.
Our little sins come upon us unawares, and tear our
vines before we recognize their presence; and, worse
than all, we so neglect their appearance or so ignore
their growth and power that we bec(jme the prey of
the full-grown brood before we are concerned about
our condition. " Take care of the nickels, and the
dollars will take care of themselves;" and what is
true of money is true of virtues. Keep doAvn the lit-
tle spi'outs of sin, and there will be no trees to cut
down when they ha\ e grown big and old and hard.

Finally, let me say that the little foxes spoil our
vines very easily, because '<our grapes are tender
gra])es." Therefore we should be more on the alert
to take them Avhen "little," and before the work of
devastation begins. The grape is a very tender fruit,
easily spoiled at best; but the grapes of the Christian
vine are the temhrest ever grown. Xothing is so easily
soiled as Christian reputation or character, and noth-
ing is so i-cadily tainted and i)oisoned as Christian
purity and piety. All other rei)Utation and character
can stand a greater shock, in the world's eyes at least;
and all other virtue or integrity may stand a greater
strain or a fouler touch under the pressure of tempta-
tion or contamination unless it be the good name and
the chastity of a woman.

til

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328

THE LITTLE FOXES.

Xothiiig-, according- to human standards, is so deli-
cate and spotless as religion, especially the Christian
rdigion; and by i-eason of our weak and vile natures,
our susceptibility to doubt and declension, our subjec-
tion to Satanic art and delusion, our every-day contact
with worldliness and temptation, our purity and piety
are most reailily polluted and blighted; and when we
are so blackened and corrupted we are the most con-
spicuous and the Avorst Inirt of all other creatures.
The Avhitor the angel's wing the more easily spotted.
The holier and higher Lncifcr was before he fell the
blacker and foider he seems and is in his degradation.
IIow easily, apparently, one little sin overthrew the
stainless Adam and Eve! and what woe and wicked-
ness have followed! The loftier the being- and the
whiter he is the lower his fall and the blacker his
character, and tlic greater arc the consequences to
Iiirn and to others. The purer and holier the heart
the more delicate the touch needed to stain it and be-
foul it: and lience our vines are said to bear verv
"tender grapes." Hence the great importance too of
keeping- out the little foxes that spoil the vines. In
order to this we should kill down every outci-opping
of unl)elief, of iniidelity, of passion, and appetite.
Kill this brood of vipers while they are little, and
don't Avait for the little br^ od to grow up and breed
other brooils, us is too often the case. " Take us the
foxes, the little foxes that spoil our vines, for our vines
have iemhr grapes." O for the cultivation of that
early, that constant and assiduous ]»iety Avhich keeps
doAAii the little sins, and AA'hich in the course of relig-
ious development inures to that peace and prosperity
Avhicli iloAV like a river and which are never marred
by the touch <>f great transgressions or misfortunes!

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iSi

R FIGHT With eONSGIBNGE :

IN FOUR ACTS.

I^IIE first picture in this skctcli represents a
^^^^ man on tlic eve of doing' something' Avrong
and determined in his coiu'se. lie is ])Iot-
ting" some selieme of meanness or measure of
vilhuny for which lu; has not the consent of his
conscience. It is a matter of no dilfereneo
here what that scheme or measure is. It may bo
that he is devising- a great ])hin to swindle his fel-
low-man — for instance, some patent mc licine discov-
try or invention. He may be designing to gratify
some base passion, or to debauch himself by debas-
ing' appetite. Perha])s iie is plotting robbery, mur-
der, or seduction. AVhalever '"'s purpose, he is bent
on evil just the same; and in the first act, or picture,
we discover him in debate with his better ansrel — his
conscience. Dallying in the lap of sin, he is parley-
ing' Avith his conscience, and the controversy seems
hot and furious. This is always the case M'hen con-
science gets the better of the argument with a man
bent on evil, guided by evil impulses, or misjudged
purposes. The first step in vice or crime is always
slow, cautious, hesitating, and full of trepidation,
and so in every step of a man Avith conscientious
scruples and convictions; but when his purpose is

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332

A FHiiiT WITH coxscie:nck.

made up, and liis impulses are sti-ono-, ],e canuot pro-
ceed without a lierec controversy with lii.s inner and
better nature. 80 you see tliu man del^atin-- with his
conscience in the iirst picture.

In tlie second act, or picture, you discover that
conscience has knocked liini down, tum])led Jiini
heels up and head under, and she is j^roeeeding- to
pommel him into a virtuous frame, as a school-nni'am
does a refractory boy. Oi-dinarily she succeeds, or
often does; but if the nuui is inlatuated and deter-
mined upon his course, he resists her lashing admo-
nitions, lie kicks while conscience gets the first
bI(jod, and thou<.:h knocked down and stunned for
the moment, he recovers from his collapse with re-
doubled purpose and fury. It isn't every fellow^ who
gets knocked down first who gets whii>ped, albeit the
advantage is great to the first slugger. Opposition
and violence arouse some men to die full measure of
their strength and resistance, and this is about the
case with a man fascinated with a vicious purpose
and bent on evil in spite of C(msci.'ntious convic-
tions and com])unctions which smite him to the
contrary. He may halt and parley, and bend like the
sapling- to tlie gale for the moment, but he springs
back witli elasticity farther in tlu; other direction
than before.

Thus we see him in the third act, or i)icture. lie
has risen, like Koderic Dhu, si)iinging like a tiger
at the throat of Fitz- James; but nnfortunately the
cudg-el of conscience has not done the previcnis Avork
of Fitz-Janus's blade, and the madman, bent on evil,
does not rehix his nerveless and exhausted gi-asj)
from the throat of his combatant, as Roderic Dhu
did, faint from loss of blood. He has risen to his

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A FUillT WITH coxscr?:\c'K.

li:)-}

feet with all the Ibree of renewed and ivdonhied
energy, and he proeeeds to choke his cunseifnee
into submission. AVhile ilat of his baek he ma-
tured a more violent determination, and ralivin'>-
with all the venom and fury of his temptaticm, he
makes a vif>()n)us onset and takes his better an<>el
l)y the throat. lie throttles eonviction. represses
eonsiderati(m, suppresses caution, and this point
in victory achieved, lie has less trouble in finally
choking- down all resistance or compunction of the
moral sense. Had he felt, when downed at the first
blow, no disposition to debate or fight, then con-
science would have been triumphant over his will,
and his i)assions and i)urposes would have subsided
and relaxed, but it is just at this point that passion
and i)nrpose always rally, if jiermitted, and choke the
life out of God's angel monitor of the soul. Some-
times the conscience gets the better of the man by
argun\ent; but if argument fails by milder measures,
if blows fail by severer means, and the stricken vic-
tim rallies, she is likely to share the fate of tempora-
ry if not permanent suppression, as is sometimes the
fatal result. Conscience is always a logical and sol-
id reasoner, and where reason eiuls her intuitions ai-e
always infallible. How much better at the outset to
listen to her voice!, and when she lifts her lash upon
us how much better to submit to her chastisement!
Her healing stripes ai-e ])recious to the heart, if pas-
sively received; and when she knocks us down with
her blows of conviction and compunction, how dread-
ful is the obduracy and the turpitude which can re-
cover, and take her by the throat! Alas! how many
are ruined right here at this fatal point in their fight

with conscience!
22

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A KKillT AVITII (ONSCIKNCE.

In the roiirth and last act \vc find the dctenniiu'd
and inc()iTigil)le slayer of his conscience siiccessful
and tnuiupluint in liis iatul cnn-se. He has carried
his purpose; and passion, appetite, pride, and)it ion-
whatever it is — dominates his will and revelH supreme
in his soul. For the time being-, and Ibr the present
purpose at least, he has choked his Letter an<j;el
speechless, got her down, put his foot upon her ho-
som, and is stamping the very lil'e out of her. lie is
not only bent upon carrying his point, but he is de-
termined to hush her voice and paralyze her latent
energies, lie began by a heated dialogue -with her,
and she got the better of the argument. More heat-
ed still, insulted and injured conscience knocked him
down by momentary conviction and shame. Deter-
mined not to be outdone and thwarted, he rallied all
his forces, arose npon his feet, in spite of judg-
ment convinced and sense c(mvictcd, and chokes hei-
into silence; and conscience, thns resisted, from this
])()int grows weaker and weaker at every step of stu-
pefying and blunting opposition. Xot only so, but
the will and determination of persistence and pursuit
in evil grow^ stronger and stronger alter this point
is reached; and it is with little difHculty then that a
nmn chokes the breath out of his conscience and
then stamps the life out of her. This course pur-
sued, especially in a scries of contests, the light
kei)t n]) often and long enough, and conscience upon
all points will be repressed and suppressed for good.
Although throttled and crushed in one instance, and
from the stand-point of a specific vice or crime, she
w^ill rally again Avhen evil passion and purpose, in
any given case, have been satisfied; and the fight,
though feebler than at first, will be resumed; but if

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A FKinr WITH coxsciKXC'i:.

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conscic'iR'o docs not <^aiu a victory in tlio next onset,
!icr contest will be Ibeblcr and fainter still, a ml so on
nntil she will make no resistance at all in tlie hour oi
temptation.

Tims' the vietiiu ol' i)assiun will erelon;^ have it all
his own way in the given ilireetion of his evil conrse,
and what is Inie of one diri't-lion in lil'e may become
true of all directions. Some people have conscience
in one thing and not in another, but the tendency is
to kill conscience in every direction when yon have
killed it in an- diii! ition. With an undisturbed sense
of guilt the I on.scien< e-killer can go on, after awhile,
calmly and oo^'y into ice and crime, without a sting
or touch of co'Hminr ..on beforehand, and he is oidy
atlected by the -.ting of renioi'se which follows. If
he j)ursues his course long, lie will reach the ])oint
when his conscience will hurt him neither liefore nor
after his sins. Thousands are territied after who are
not troubled before, but the nuui who can so kill con-
science as not to trouble liim after vice or crime has
reached the lowest and most fatal point in the deg-
radation and ruin of moral consciousness. By kill-
ing conscience before the fact a nuui lays the best
foundation for the- destruction of conscience after the
fact, and Avhen he can Huceessfully do both he has
roacheil the end of all hope and passed the day of
grace.

If a man would only k't his conscience always ar-
gue liim into the right every time — if necessary,
knock him dow u when perverse, and then get n]i,
like a hert), to ])ursue the right — he would reach that
point in moral culture and habit when conscience
wonld have no need of controversy or conflict with
the soul. AVc all have our early contests to begin

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310

A I'lGUT WITH CONSCIIONCK.

with, but liiibitual victory alone can, erclonji:, make
a lofty conscience and give it supremacy and rest.
Conscience Avould be but a negatiNC force without
conllict and trial. It is good for her and for us to
have our light until both become ^mitive by develop-
ment, and it is then that, Avith an untroui)led heart
and a clear head, nuin nuiy move inightily and grand -
Iv upon the even and upward tenor of life's way in
an honest, successful, and happy career. Of course
there will be emergencies and doubtful contests upon
the way of those who attempt any thing in conllict
with the W0..1, the flesh, and the devil; but a victo-
rious and well-inured conscience is the best solver of
doubt and the best hand to hold the lamp of experi-
ence before us. The clearest thinker, the most relia-
ble actor in the dubious conflicts of life is the man-
who has a good conscience toward God and man,
made so by education and trial in the fire. It was
thus no doubt that Paid could boast of a " conscience
void of oifense," and this fact added grandly Ui the
masterly conflict which he waged with triumphant
success over all the forces of nature and the powers
of darkness.

A glorious and a dangerous mystery centers in the
heart t)f man, and there is nothing he should so study
and preserve as his conscience, which sits enthroned
and scei)tcred in the soul. This is our great ".Moral
sense," involving the co.. current testimony of every
Innnan faculty as to what is right and wrong— as to
the ought and the ought not which ndes our life.
Conscience is the central sun of an intei-nal system
around which revolve our ruling ])rincii)les and pas-
sions, hold to their orbits by the centripetal and cen-
trifund forces of will and motive. How delicate the

/ /
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jf'IfW

A FKHIT WITH CONSCIENCE.

.•u;j

julJKstniont! how easily disordered and made chaotic!
What, needs a more habitual, philosophic, aiM script-
ural educatiou than conscience? How often pervert-
ed by a false training-, or for the want of education!
Often this sense becomes cormant or dead. It is the
key to the heart, tho sentinel which guards the soul;
and here God or the devil enters and reig-ns. Jlei'e
every human relationship is adjusted. Conscience is
the g-ranite column which supports the fabric of self
and society, and many a Samson blind lifts in indis-
tinguishable ruin this magnificent shaft from beneath
the structure of his own and the souls of others. Con-
science wrecked is the world's cliaos, and Xajioleon
went so far as to call it ''the inviolable asylum of tho
liberty of man." Man with it dethroned is a self-pro-
peiler npon a turbulent deep, hurled v.ith the force of
liis ow^n destruction upon the reefs of an inevitable
ruin. Conscience involves eveiy thing. Oiigen calls
it "the chamber of justice;" and let me say tliat witn
a g-ood conscience toward God and man we need nei-
ther judge nor jury. Coleridge 'jn-onounced it "the
pulse of reason," and we may add that all mental sci-
ence is mastered when a i rained conscience rules our
intellections. Jolmson di'clares it ^'the sentinel of
virtue; " and we have compassetl all nioj d philosonhy
when conscience snboi-dinates our passions. Others
liave styled it, " God's dejutty," "God's vicegerent,"
" ( iod's oracle," in the soul ; and, if so, the heart which
treasnres and heeds " God's monitor," as another calls
it, needs no other scepter to sm ay our mental and emo-
tn)nal nature.

On the other hand, Shakespeare says, " Conscience
is a thousand swords;" and hence, destroyed, she be-
comes the Xemesis of the lost soul. Theodore Pai--

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111

344

A I'lUllT WITH CONSCIKNCK

;li

ker said, "There is no college for the conscience;"
and Lavater said, " The conscience is wiser than sci-
ence;" but, if so, it is none the less the subject of
education, false or true, and from this stand-point it
is all the more fatal if perverted or prostituted. I
love to feel like Luther, when he said, "I am more
afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his
cardinals. I have within me the great pope, self; "
and he who fears himself most profoundly will be
best guided by an inviolate conscience. I once
talked with a man who s- > .ned to have no cor-
science. He was a murderei , a libertine, and a thief.
He laughed and joked about his crimes as if they
were insignificant trifles, and he could sleep as sound-
ly and sweetly as an infant. He was even a good
soldier, iuid about the close of the war he killed a
Confederate marshal and was executed. Upon the
gallows he kicked his hat from the platform, and he
went off into eternity .without a tremor and with an
oath of levity upon his dying lips. How many men
in the world are like this I do not know, but this
one thing I do know: it all comes of a man's fight
with his conscience. Some very bad men have al-
wa^ 3 a tender conscience which tortures them; but,
in spite of pain and misery, they still grow on in sin
and go to ruin. This also comes of a man's fight
with his conscience. AYliatever the condition of con-
science in time, nevertheless there comes a moment
when conscience, however choked or crushed out, will
re-assert itself. The hour of death usually brings this
most just judge to the bar of ivckoning, and if the
death-hour should fail, there is a time when con-
science will make a coward of tlie guilty soul — at the
bar of God. How truly did Byron, that man of expe-

A FIGHT WITH CONSCIENCK.

. rieiico on this subject, describe the remorse of a guilty
conscience regaining- dominion over the guilty soul :

The mind that broods o er guilty woes

Is like the scorpion girt by fire,
In circle narrowing as it glows,
The flames around their captive close
Till inly searched by thousand throes,

And maddening in her ire,
One and sole relief she knows:
The sting she nourished for her foes,
Whose venom never yet was vain.
And darts into her desperate brain.
So do the dark in soul expire,
Or live like scorpion girt by fire;
So writhes the mind remorse has riven,
Misfit for earth, undoomed for heaven.
Darkness above, despair beneath.
Around it flame, within it death."

Mortal man, k t me beg you, never fight your con-
science. Take care of your conscience, and she will
be sure to take care of vou.

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GHURGH eRUTGHES.

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M^^Eii'^ skeU-h ivi)ivseiUs a .mail hii: uniMUc con-

*C-|^^r^^ '''*"'"'^*" *''" ^••"■•^'''1"^''"^ S'"i>'.i4' toclimch late.
!-r'^/ I'iicv arc aM on (muIcIics. ami they rejuv-
i'^^ sons ai-),.. isrliaraolcrswlio constitute a i)ait

of the asst.i!i.!v of iho saints.

lev are

t^r* wounded, ia\f been shot or stabbed through
tlie f'ei linos, and tiioy are so otlended and hurt iluit
they cannot ^et to church williout linipiny. They ^ct
in hite, therefore, take a l)aek seat near tlie door, and
tliey g-o out first and leave eaily. Tliey (h) not lialt
and liob))io half so badly getting- lionie as tliey do get-
ting- to cliurch; but, no matter how ch.se the cliureh
is to whicli they l)eh)ng-, it is"a h.ng way off and liard
to reacli on occasions of devotion and service. They
take n(» i)art in religious matters when there, and they
seldom g-ive the ])astor or the l)rethren a chance to
speak to them nnless they desire, like Ajax, to give a
parting- shot from behind them as thev o-o Iimi)in«»-
aw^'iy.

In the picture l)efore you are a nuinl)er of charac-
ters, all peculiar and ]ieculiarly afFected.

1. Colonel John Brown is just entering- the door.

Ke was former treasurer, and, the moneys of the

("hurch not being- well accounted for, he was left out

at the last annual election and another brother sub •

(346)

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CllUKCll CUUTCllKS.

349

Lte

stitutecl. lie him nevtu- been happy since, and he is
absolntely iiTeconcilalile and in the sulks. He goes
to. churcli, but he goes to show how badly he is in-
jured and to see how deeply he tan make the pastor
and the brethren realize the fact tliat he is not api)re-
ciated and that he has been most grievously wronged.

2. ;?^ext conies Aunt Polly Snooks. She never was
noticed by the pastor and the rich people, no matter
how much attention was paid to her in her distress
and poverty; and her chief object in going to church
is to let everybody see how badly she is neglected and
how dreadfully she is Avounded. She talks all around
the community about the minister and the leading
brethren, and when they go to see her, as they do as
often as possible, she is always astonished that they
have come again.

;J. Xext comes Deacon Jones, lie is for rule or
ruin, and if he can't pidl the whole cart he will break
a trace. The Church gets tired, and " sits dowi' npon
him," as it were; and he sits back with his "bull-
dozing" countenance all hung with the dark drapery
of injui-ed innocence, lie is not appreciated, he can-
not run the machinery of the Church and the i)astor,
and he is determined by his limping gait to make the
Church as miserable as possible.

4. Here hobbles old Bi'other Jedediah Sniffle-
wiper. He is a preacher, and the brethren and the
l)astor do not ask him to preach, lie is called and or-
• dained of God to preach, and he wants to preach only
when they do not want to hear him. lie gets ■ • calls
elsewhere, and in his estimation the pastor is an igno-
ramus — and an ass too, for that matter — that he is not
allowed to preach where he belongs and when he
wants to. O he is hurt to the quick, and he tells it

► 'is

350

CIlLJtCU CKLTCIIKS.

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all owv the oountrv at all the .Vsyoeiatioiis and Cou-
lerences; and AvheivVvi he g< oh he IrieH to get up op-
p(j,sitioii to his .-loi", IX- 1:; has ti'ied a dozen times to
get up a I'aetioa in the Chureh. lie too takes a bacdc
seat, and yets away early and rapidly, unless he wants
to stay long enough to give the pastor's sermon a cut.
(>(jd deliver a Chureh Ironi a preacher whom nobody
wants to hear preach!

'). Next comes old Colonel -lohn I'homas Stake-
holder. He is pursv, i'at, and tlourishing. lie is
worth two lunulred thousaiul dollars, and lives in grand
style, lie expects to get to heaven, escape hell, and
caj-ry the world on his back. He uttends the horse-
ra;'cs, goes to the watering-places, has a big time, and
he gives a small ])ittance to the Chtnch, and comes
when he gets ready. The pastor trod upon his toes,
and his ofteiided dignity takes a back seat at the
church on Sunday, and stirs np the world against his
Chnrch and pastor the balance of the week. He tries
hard to make the Church realize the danger of tread-
ing upon a man of his imnicn^i' projiortions, and his
olFeuded dignity hobbles along and does ail the harm
he can. "

6. ^N'ext behold young T^ordon Granger Swelleber-
gcr. He joined the Church in a former revival, and
his wealthy and .listin."-aished parents dote upon
Gordon as the highest type, par excellence, of royal
young manhood. He goes to church occasionally,
visits all the places af amusement, and gets 'tight,"
swears and swells around promiscuously with the
world, ^o sermon a pastor could ]v ich would miss
him, and he and his family an terribly aggrieved on

account of a discourse whie, as
among Church-members. Go on

;ated dissipation
s no doubt aimed

CHUKCIl CllUTfllElS.

351

at, thoy think, and the young- nitin Btands about tlio
streets on a crutch and with his arm in a isling, "all
broken up,'' and trying- to keep everybody else from
going to his chiircli. lie goes now to some other
churcli, except occasit)nally he goes as far as the door
of his own church to let his paitor see that he does
not come in.

7. Thc.o is Zeke Smith. He is poor and ragged
and wears a flopped hat, and ho construes the most
charitable condescension to his condition as an insult
to his ])ovcrty and obscurit}'. The Church hates poor
folks, and he has quit going, except to take a back
seat and stand around and pout and show that nobody
loves poor folks, especially if they can't dress well.

8. Xow see Miss Flora riimscy as she too goes to
church on crutches. She is passionately fond of the
novel, the theater, the dance, of dress and show and
society. She has not a single taste for Sunday-school
and prayer-meeting, and she has no relish for preach-
ing and service on Sunday mdcss the choir sings opera
music and the preacher scrapes tlie sky with eloquence
or flatters the heart with sensation. The true pastor
is always treading upon Flora's toes, and she has well-
nigh quit coming to church. AVhcii she comes she
sits back, talks all the time in service, flouts out when
the benediction is pronounced, and all the week she
takes occasion to depreciate her i)ast()i'and her Church
among the wt>rldly Christians of her acquaintance like
herself.

Having noticed the figiu'cs in the p' '/st. — and we
could have filled in with many more — let us now ex-
amine more minutely the nature and character of the
religious crutch upon which the followers of the Lord
Jesus Christ sometimts halt and hoMdc.
23

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352

CllUIlCil CRUTCHES.

J>ui'in^ the late war thoii8uiuls of men who couhl
by any means IVame some excuse, mannracture some
disease or woiintl, sometinuH even by tht' breakiii;L!^ of
their own limbs, or lincl refiij^e in some bomb-proor
to escape service, lid so. The amount of disease and
casualty which alllicted the land was truly aslt>nish-
ing, not only in the field, but at home. r]si)ecially
did men get sick before a battle, but the proportion of
infected, defective, and disaftectcd oues in camp was
far less than at home. Home was the melaucholy
place during the war, not the camp, independent of
the real causes of distress Avhich arose out of the ca-
lamities [)ro])er of tlie great struggle. Crutches were
in great demand, not only war-made, but home-made;
for not only soldiers ])rayed for slight wounds, rheu-
matism, and other disal)ilities, but citizens numufact-
ured them by the thousands when exemptions more
favorable to health and bodily soundness could not be
obtained. After the cruel war was ovei", however,
these homesick, bomb-proof, self-crij)pled, and oth-
erwise and varionsly exempted and discontented men
came out of their holes as brave as lions, became
sound and well, threw oil" the hospital nuisk, threw up
their exempted occnpations, and threw down their
crutches — until the next war! Even many an old sol-
dier who seemed to have been fearfully wonnded in
the field improved incredibly fast, and all entered act-
ively again into the fields of life, business, and pleas-
in-e, until Corporal Tanner got into the pension busi-
ness.

!N^ow all this has a counterpart in the Churches of
Christ. Thousands are daily shirking duty, like poor
soldiers and cowardly citizens in time of war. It is
really amusing, often, to see and hear them in their

CIIUIU'II CnUTCHES.

353

frivolous exc'UHcs for not ^Mving of their KiihHtauce,
attuiuling- cluircli, or for otherwise! fiiilin*^ to(lischar<^o
their duty. There ivre Hevcral kinds of crutches which
we will here notice:

1. The povirty crutch. It is incredible how often
Christians do lie about their poverty. To hear many
of them talk you would think they wore fit only for
the poor-house. They never have any thing' to spare
for Ctod, but always Hometliin;;' to s})are foi' any world-
ly object. I'hey can enlarge their business, chew to-
bacco, and drink whisky, attend anmseinents, dress
well, have enough to eat \x\n\ enjoy themselves with,
employ doctors and lawyers, have something to lay
up for a rainy day, but nothing for God and religion.
llow like some during the war — willing to give their
sons, but not their negroes^ for the lost cause! They
were ready to rebel against the rebellion when their
slaves were called for, or other sacrifices of property
were denuinded to sustain their cause and country;
and yet many of these men were seeking to make fort-
unes out of the necessities and poverty of the ])eople
and the (irovernment. How many Christians to-day
who would turn, like the rich young ruler, and leave
Christ if they had to give up their ])r()perty to follow
him! If it is going to take the ^'' nU/gcrSy^ stop the
war! So with Christ. !Many want all the profits in the
religious business, but they don't want to bear any of
the exi)ons('. How many thousands hobble around on
this poverty crutch, and cry, " Poor," " broke,"
"hard times," " debt," "pressure of business," and a
score of other excuses, which indicate that religion is
but a secondary consideration! But when off the
subject of Tt-ligion it is refreshing to hear some breth-
ren talk oii being rich. They are flush and full of

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354

CHURCH CRUTCHES.

'' I

speculation; " business is business." They lay down
their crutches, but you just mention Missions and
Church expenses, and up the crutches come. ]Nro
doubt they often smile at the crutch trick they play
upon the beggars for Christ, for whom they cherish a
dog-o-ecl and hearty contempt.

2. 27ie sensitive crutch. The late Avar developed a
numerous class of croakers and growlers. There
Avci-e those who were always mad, dissatisfied, com-
plaining, and hunting- a crutch or other means to keep
out of service and hide their property. Some of them
were "big men" and former ''fire-eaters." So we
have a number of brethren always sensitive and of-
fended at some bod?/ or some thinff. They can't com-
mune, they can't meet in the Church Conference, they
can't hear th.e pastor, they can't have things their own
way because somebody or something has hurt their
sensibilities. They are exceedingly tliin-skinned, and
if they can't get an offense any other way, they will
hunt for one. A soldier at Fredericksburg- wanted a
furlough, and putting his hand above the breastworks
he got it shot off. lie exclaimed : "A discharge, thank
God!" So some Christians are always wounded by
looking for offenses and huntirig for excuses to be out
of the way with tlie Chnrch. They are like the old-
fashioned Irishman, with his coat-tail dragging the
ground, daring some one to tread iqjo!^ it, and thus
hunting for a fight; and they usually get it, and get
wounded so that they can hobble on tiie sensitive
crutch the balance of their lives.

3. T/ie Sunday crutch. This carries a numerous class
— active, energetic, clever, sometimes liberal, attentive
tc business all the week, but they cannot attend prayer-
meeting, Sunday-school, or preaching on Sunday.

CHURCH CllUTCHES.

ioo

Rain or shine, cold or hot, cuhn or Avincly, business is
neve • nog-lected. Ice, imul, snow, slush, sL<jrui — these
are no obstacles in the way of secular duty. But re-
ligion, ah! well, that's another thing-. Sunday always
finds them "tired," "'sleepy," '*sick," and they must
'' restJ' The family, the baby, the cut, the canary,
the poodle, the toothache, the headache, the backa-cbe,
or some other ache kept them at home all day Sun-
day; but the baby may squall, the Avifo may groan,
the canary, cat, poodle — idl may die when ^londay
comes. Tlie Sunday crutch is laid down, and business
is vigorously resumed. True, the family all Avent vis-
iting Sunday altcrnoon, or they all took a ride in tlie
country; but they couldn't come to church. Meet
them early JNIonday morning, or they see you coming
in the distance, anrl they begin to hobble and lie on
the Sunday crutch. Heavens! how tlie people do
lie about that Sunday busine&s! They stay at home,
read the daily papers, crack jokes, cat fine dinners,
visit or ride out, but lie about ''feeling too bad" to
go to ch arch on Sunday. AVhatAvill become of these
liars? What falsehood and hjqiocrisy!

There are a number of other crutches too numerous
to mention. Some have nenwfsvvnivhe^, and are able
to stand any thing else but the sei'mou and the con-
gregation of God's house on Sunday. Some can't
stand the style of tlie preacher, the singing, or the
folks, and they hobl)le on the crutch of taste. Otiiers
find fault with the character of some of their breth-
ren, cannot 'commune with them, and can't go where
they are, and they hobble upon \\\Q.feUowHhlp crutch,
as mean as those tliey condemn. Some object to thin
or that doctrine, and they are hobbling around jou all
the while on the crutch of some other denomination,

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35(3

CIIUKCII CKUTCIIES.

while, indeed, they would nut he satisfied or worth
an}^ thing anywhere. The devil has made a pair of
crutches for every Ch-istian, so called, who wants to
halt and hobble, and unfortunately there are thousands
of patrons who support this part of the devil's busi-
ness. All I can say is, God have mercy upon the
crutcli-finders and the crotchet-hunters! I fear that
hell will be full of such people going directly from
the Churches upon crutches. You can never cure
one in a hundred of the crutch disease. Prejudice,
pride, selfish preference — these three evil principles
lie at the bottom of this sin; and these principles, once
set in the lieart, are Avell-nigh incuraljle and inci-ad-
icable. La/iness, too, is a mighty factor in {\w making
of religious crutches. After all, a Church is very
much like a drove of mules — some active, and always
ahead; some conservative, and always in the middle;
and some lazy, hobbling and lingering in the rear,
falling out at last and left behind. Many start well,
but fall by the way, of; en offended and halting upon
crutches, to be left and losi: in the end. So it was
with Israel on the way to Canaan. Only two of the
old stock above twenty years ever readied the happy
land, and so with our Churches — many Avill be left
and lost who started apparently well rm the waj'.
Alas I

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THE GRQOK AND THE GRANK.

->4<-^

this sketch Ave liave two pictures which il-
^^v^^ lustmtc, as near n^ imagination can get it,
,y/o^ two characters common in almost every
^^ community.

I. Obseuve the CnooK.

lie is a wiry, circular, eely, oily, snaky-looldng fel-
low, Avitli a sharp, sinister face, a keen, piercing eyo
which looks you under, sidewise, or straight, as ho
looks characteristic or assumes an honest appearance.
All his motions and attitudes are circuhir and round-
about, and lie is a most perfect illustration of the ser-
pent in hunuin form.

The term " crook " is usually applied at police head-
quarters to had men and women living under cover,
spotted, as criminals of some character, and under the
surveillance of the law. They are thieves, burglars,
confidence -men, pickpockets, shop-lifters, and the
like; and they either work in gangs, Avith "pals," or
alone, as the case may be. Some of them are very
low and degraded characters, while othevs assume the
shape of gentlemen and ladies. The professional
beggar. < ften very Avretched-looking, sometimes Avell
dressed, always schooled to a hypocritical and obse-
quious air of Avant and suffering, might come under
this head, though not teclmically so called.

(359)

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360

THE CROOK AND TllK CItAXK.

This covers the general deiinitiou of the crook; but
I want to extend the delinition to a hvrger and more
respectable class of individuals not so called. The
thief and the house-breaker and the gambler are not
always the most dangyrously crooked people in the
world, Tiiey are only the midnight wolves who prowl
about the :;fines of society, seldom coming in con-
tact with the better circles of mankind. The eye of
the police is upon them, and it is under the greatest
difficulty that they can do us any harm. Even then,
they only hurt our pocket-books or our pi-operty.
Let us look at some of the worst of all the crooks who
infest and damage society.

1. ThcvQ is the '* cornerer,'' the respectable gambler
in stocks and bonds, the " futures " speculator in the
necessities of life, creating exorbitant and fictitious
prices upon food and raiment, robbing the producer
and oppressing the c<msumer. "Old Iliitch" and a
thousand others like him are among the worst enemi'-s
of the poor, the demoralizers of business and society;
and their ability and i-cspectability, coupled Avith their
piles of gold, sinning with imi)unity and immunity,
enables them to crush all moral opposition and to set
at defiance all laAV and sentiment.

2. Look at our trusts and monoi)olics. They pit
themselves against all competition at home, and cry
for " protection " against all competition abroad. The
big fish eat up the little ones, our smaller men and cn-
terpiises are driven to the wall, the few get rich and
the many get poor all the faster, and the laboring
classes are held to ])er]>etual poverty, ignorance, and
violence. Politics and legislation are everywhere
corrupted and controlled by the "rings," and we have
reached an age when politics and governmental ad-

THE CKOOK AND THE CKANK.

361

ministration are dominated by the " almighty dolhir,"
with their head-quarters in tlie saloon. The " wliisky
ring" is a stupendous oircuhu- crook which winds its
anaconda fohls around the lile of our nation. The
bar-room is well-nigh the nuister of this country, and
both our great national parties are at the mercy of
this ring, which girds a planet with a belt of black-
ness. Crookeduess, crookedness!

3. Observe the respectable crook in ordinary busi-
ness. How many thieves and ])ickpockcts, cheaters
and swindlers, oppressors of the poor, and deceivers
of the world shine in the club-room, the drawang-
room, and the front pew! Men become millionaires
by grinding the laborer, and yet sing psalms on Sun-
day. Others deal in false weights, short measm-es,
and adulterated merchandise, employ every trick of
trade, accumulate fortunes by deception and sharp
driving, and by reason of a big safe and a heavy
purse pass for honest men and good Church-members.
They spend a life of crookedness in business, and
their pastor sends them to heaven at the funeral.

4. Observe tlie seducer, called the '' masher." He
ensconces himself in your parlor to have " fun," as he
terms it, with your daughters, and by all his wily,
snaky arts be wins tlie confidence and love of some
silly girl, and erelong the once spotless dove is soiled
and ruined. Wo often denounce the ball-room, the
theater, the bar-room, and other recruiting shops of
the devil. The> do deceive and mislead thousands of
the voung; but the wn/uarded parlor is the most dan-
gerous place in th . world. Next comes the moonlight
ride, the lawn party, the fishing spree, the huckleberry-
hunt, and the like. It is here in these secret places
that the citadel of the female heart is oftenest assault-

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362

THE CllOOK AXl) THE CllAJ^K.

'':h

ed, and, being improperly strengtliened and fortified
hy parental iudulgenee and training, undue Itnniliarity
opens the way of the yeductive crook into the strong-
hold of virtue and purity. He is not always and al-
together to blame. The customs of society allow him
the privilege of the " arm clutch,"' the " round dance,"
the lustful kiss, the squeeze of the hand; and not un-
frequently some of the belles claim to be "lemons"
only to be '< squeezed." The chastity of thousands
of our girls is tainted thus, and nothing but /w/- stands
between them and ruin. Nevertheless, the blackest
fiend out of hell is the seducer. The penitentiary is
paradise for him. The neck-tie of the gibbet best
becomes his serpentine villainy.

5. Then there is the clerical crook — quite a num-
ber of them, of all shades, shadows, and shines, lie
"creei^s into houses and leads captive silly women
laden with sins, led away of divers lusts;" and about
the best evidence of his presence is the manifest ad-
miration and infatuation of the ladies in any given
Church or community, lie is smothered with com-
plinumts, flowers, presents, and, sometimes, kisses.
lie is called "sweet," "grand," "eloquent," "splen-
did," "killing," and the tine fellow swells and struts
and smiles and flatters and fondles in return. His
sermons are all jjopular and broad, and he fairly floats
upon the perfumed breeze of adulation. His i)eople
weep for sentiment, but never for sin; '• Jesus is never
seen nor heard for the num. In the very nature of
things, unguarded by the grace of God, the best
preacher is s(mietinies made a clerical crook.

The clerical crook is sometimes a ministerial tramp,
going about plajang the game of confidence, Avorking
his brethren, imposing upon their lios]ntality, getting

their inon'^v under false pretenses, seeking plaees of
honor abr^aa with a bad odor at home. Churches are
often dehided and torn np by these humbugs. Even
the sheep follow these crooks with the Master's crook
in their hands and letters of recommendation in their
poclcets; and the i)oor, simple fools often only find
out their folly when it is too late. Xot unfrequently
they run off the old pastor to i)ut a sei-pcntine crook
in their bosoms. They always get bit in the end.

We might speak of many othei- classes of crooks,
but we Avill spare the lesser fry. There are crooked
deacons, crooked treasurers, crooked members, uiale
and female, in many of our Churches. Crooks abound
everywhere, and we are not to go to police head-quar-
ters alone to find them. Beware of the crooks, and
the best way to beware is to look into your own bosom
and see if there is not a crook there.

II. OnsEiivE THE Chaxk.
This is a common getms homo, es])ecially in these lat-
ter days. I suppose crooks have always existed, and
so have cranks. Timon of Athens, Antisthenes and
Diogenes were cranks, and no doubt ^Esop and Soc-
rates were considered cranks. There was a crook
among the twelve apostles (Judas), and Peter some-
times seemed a little cranky.

But what is meant by a crank? This character is
somewhat varied in its peculiarities, and he is harder
to define than the crook; but we may say of him that
he is a man of angles, not crooks, as you see in the
illustration. He is an "Angular Saxon," and my ob-
servation is that he generally belongs to the Saxon
familv. The crank is usually an honest, straightfor-
ward, though salient and riginal character. He is
not morally mean, and he may be a good Christian as

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364

THE CUOOK AND THK CRANK.

■in

well ns an unconverted sinner, intelli<^ent as \\i;ll us
ignorant, learned as well as illiterate. Some of the
most intellectual and lofty spirits have been the worst
of cranks. The great dilliculty we meet in the crank
is that he is at right angles, and sometimes acute an-
gles, with everybody ard every thing except himself
and his notions. lie often rides a hobby, and if so,
he is in salient opposition to everyboily and every
thing which cannot straddle his little horse. He will
not be satisfied, either, until lie can get you upon his
wooden pet; and he will spend a life-time of energy
and zeal in pressing upon you the in)i)ortance of his
hobby, absolutely the most important of U important
things.

Whether he rides a hobby or not, he is always pe-
culiar, and peculiarly distinguished from all other
men. lie seldom agrees with you at any point in the
considerat'srii of things common among men, and he
is often so ut r uliar that he will change his mind and
shift h'lr ji., h.;on if he finds that you agree with him.
Even in a su altitude of counsel upon the most dilfi-
cult subject he will bolt the convention, aiMl if he
were to call a convention of his own and of himself
alone, so to speak, he would dissent at last from his
own decisions.

More than this, the crank is seldom, if ever, prac-
tical, although sometimes his inventive and discover-
ing genius goes ahead of the world and of the day in
wdiich he lives. All men who have lived ahead of
their fellows in their times have been considered fools
and cranks; but this does not imply that they were
siich. Our greatest originators and creators were
held and ])ersecuted as cranks and ftmatics until the
world caught up with them ; and then, like the Jews

THE CllOOK AND THE CUAXK.

'.m

did their slain prophets, thcN build monuiueiits to
them. Bunyiiii wa> no doubt constdeied a crank U8
well as a heretic in his day, but recently England put
his statue in AVestnunster Abbey. All such cranks
us Cohunbus, AVashington, Harvey, (ialileo, and Lu-
ther have turned the world forward for centuries upon
its great centennial axis. So of Morse and Fulton
and Stephenson and Eads and a host of others.

Besides impracticability ' genuine crank, he is

often and truly a fanatic— in ational, incorrigible, and
unimpressiblc. In the great bundle of his peculiari-
ties he sometimes has something g'od, but with im-
practicable fanaticism he carries hU ideas to extremes
and fails to reach the conservative co-oi)cration of
mankind in order to carry them out. Even when a
man is a crank upon something true and good he kills
his influence by his persistent hobbyisin and his of-
fensive idiosyncrasy. Every thing runs into the groove
of his own idea, the importance of Avhich dwindles
every thing else into absolute insignificance; and,
with an utter disregard for the opinions of all man-
kind besides, the crank soon becomes, even in the good
and the true, an insuflerablc bore.

One-idead men have done the world, in some in-
stances, its greatest good; but, to be successful, they
put their one idea in harmony with all other ideas
about them. They were practical with their pecul-
iarity, and they were neither hobbyists nor fanatics.
They had common sense as Avell as singular genius,
and, Avhatever their persistent en ' luisiasm, they pressed

nothing out of joint. They bowed at the feet of
learning and excellence, and they oidy implored the
forces of wealth and ability to consider their claims.
They were not George Francis Trains, nor were they

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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

36G

THE CKOOK AND THE CRAXK.

anarchists, anti-poverty fanatics, and all-the-world
panacea propagandists of our day. They were com-
mon-sense geniuses who knew that they had something
good lor tlie world, and with wisdom and fortitude,
suH'ering opposition and persecution, they waited and
worked nntil they succeeded.

Henry George, Fatl^er JNIcGlynn, Justin D. Fulton,
Frances Willard, and others are considered cranks
upon a gi-and scale, urging gi-eat but impractical ideas;
but it may be that they are but great revolutionizers
of thought and of society. They may turn out ahead
of their age. Let us not always judge too harshly of
those considered cranks, remembering how often the
world has i)ersecuted its greatest benefactors. The
Pharisees considered Christ a crank, but he has rev-
olutionized the world, and the once cruel cross has
become the ensign of the world's glory. Best of all,
let us examine oiu'selves and see if there is not a ci*ank
within, knowing that most men have something pe-
culiar. There are but few straight trees in the forest.
Most of them are crooked or gnarled or knotty or
cranky.

.. i

h
(0

SHIMEI THROWING STONES.

O^iKI-H

^\^ 1'^ of the most i)itiab]c scenes in history was
^^^ that of David and his friends Ueein<>- from

Jernsalem and from the tln-eatened de-
strnction by liis own son, Absalom. This
promised to be the great disaster of his life,
and he went ont of the city and over the slope
of Monnt Olivet barefoot, covered with sackcloth,
weeping as he went np, and all the people, with heads
covered and eyes weeping-, followed him. The only
hope David seemed to have was that God! would
" tnrn the counsel of Ahithophel," his chief counsel-
or, '"into foolishness," for, as an arch-conspirutor, he
would be Absalom's chief adviser. Quite a number
of leading friends joined the king on the way, but
he sent back such men as Ilushai, and Zadok and Abi-
athar tlie priests, to counteract the conspiracy and
keep him informed of Absalom's movements, while he
himself moved on with his little army and the people.
A little beyond Mount Olivet, Ziba, the servant of
Mephibosheth, came to him with a couple of asses
loaded with bread, raisins, wine, and fruits, and so in
his great and bitter misfortune he had some cons 'a-
tion and encouragement at the hands of distinguisnea
friends, while the mass of the people, led by the sons
of Zeruiah, Joab and Abishai. stood by him, but not

(3G9)

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370

SIIIMEI TIIKOWIXO STOXES.

gatlicred in suiticicnt numbers as yet to resist tlic re-
bellion of Absalom.

David bad just ivacbed Baburim in bis fligbt wbeu
tbere "came out a man of tbe lamily ol' Saul's bouse
named Sbiuiei, tbe sou ot'Ciera." Tbe geueral scene
of symi)atby cbanged, and, instead of condoling ^vit]^
tbe king and wisbing bim success in tbe end, Ibis
nuin walked along on tbe bill-side and cursed tbe
king in bis grief and misfortune. More tban tbis,
bo cast stones at David and at bis retinue of servants
niid followers; being, no doubt, in a safe i)lace, bigb
up on tbe bill-side, wberc tbe compliment of rei)lyiug
stones could not be well returned, and knowing tbat
David was in a burry. How Sbimei ciu'sed and Ibrew
stones and cast dustl lie called tbe King a "bloody
man," and a " nnui of IJelial," tbe devil; and be
cbarged bim witb usurping Saul's crown, and de-
nounced upon bim tbe curse of Absalom as a just ret-
ribution for tbe destruction of Saul's bouse. " lie-
bold, tbou art taken in tby miscbief, because tiiou art
a bloody unm," be said; and bow long be continued
to curse, to cast dust, and to stone David and bis
friends we do not know.

Tbe sons of Zeruiab ])ropo8ed to go and take oil'
tbe bead of tbis "dead dog" of Saul's bouse; but Da-
vid was a grcat-bearted man in bis sorrow and mis-
fortune, as well as in joy and ])rosi)erity, and be bad
no time to stop to kill tleas. "Let bim curse," said
David, " because tbe Lord batli said unto bim. Curse
David." If God sends tbis grievous e[)isode on tbe
way, tben we must submit, was David's idea, and
tben be turned to tbe bopeful side of bis case, and
remarked to bis friends: "It may be tbat tbe Lord
will look on mine affliction, and tbat tbe Lord will re~

SlUMKl TIIUOWIXU STOVES.

a7i

<iuito me good for his cursing this (hiy." Dii\ id iir-
itucmI that his own son -was socking his life, ami how
nincli more might Shimci curse and stone and cast
dust at liim! lie ])l)il<)so|)liically toolv tiie wliole mat-
ter as a designing providence, and lefttlie solution of
its mystery to tlie future; and in liis nnignanimity lici
forgave Sinmei wiien he returned victorious over his
son, ^Vbsah)m, hack lo Jerusalem. Sul)mission to
God's will in inislbrtune; magnanimous clemency to
his enemies in victory! This was great-hearted and
l(»fty-min(U'd David, and he would liave spared Absa-
lom, the arch-lraitor, above all, if lie couhl.

]iut the most i)usillanimons ci-ealure in the wholo
U)t of David's enemies and ])ersccutors on this occa-
sion was Shimei. His conduct was the very baseness
of all cowardice and meanness, and the a])parently
brave bidly — casting dust, cursing, and throwing
stones when he thought he was salt — 1)ecame the ab-
ject and obsequious dog at the feet of David when
he returned victorious from the bloody field of
Ephraim Avood. So it always is with the coward
and the vile enemy who will take the advantage of
your misfortunes to insult and injure you, and at the
same time to seek their own ascendency over you. It
must have been a well-known fact that God had de-
posed Said and his house and had exalted David to
the throne and scejiter of Israel, and David had been
exceedingly kind to Saul and his family, although
Saul, in his life-time, had sought every means which
jealousy* and envy could invent to destroy David.
Even when Saul and Jonathan fell on Gilboa's gory
heights, slain by their own hands, David gave vent,
in the noblest strain of magnanimity ever written, to
the grief and appreciation of his own heart j and yet

' ly r

^ 1 1:

• \i

• ul

372

HIir.MKr T11U<)\VI\(J STOXKS.

Shimci and Siiul's desceiuluntH, liko Saul himtsolf,
still chonshed tlio si)irit ol' nmlico and ivveii^»-e to-
ward *'tlio mar. al'ter (iod's own heart."

Cireeu-c-ycd envy, base- minded littleness, vile-
hearted cowardice, in man are always as blind to
CJod's purposes and providence as to the nioi-al sub-
limity and nobility of superior character; and ne4ther
the judgments of God nor the condescension and fa-
vor of human generosity can transform cowardice and
pusillanimity into manhood and honor, 'i'liese cpudi-
ties in human nature are always at war with every
thing good and lofty above them, and when misfort-
une or aflliction come to the objects of their envy or
revenge, they are always on hand to insult and in-
jure. There is sometimes no cure for them except to
kill them. David had been kind to Shimei and iiis
kindred. lie forgave him his Avrong perpetrated at
Bahurim, but Shimei would have repeated his low
drama of baseness and cowardice the next day, if the
opportunity had been aitbrded. Shimci was the char-
acter personated to whom Shakespeare spoke when he
eaid :

You are tho hnre of whom the proverb goes,
Whoso valor plucks dead lions by the beard.

Honest peoi)le are often cowardly, but to add base-
ness and villainy to cowardice makes the vilest
creature that God ever permitted to live.

Here we learn an important, though sad lesson, and
it is valuable, especially to the young, to learn it, in
order not to be surprised in life. Your enemies will
fight you as you rise to position and prosperity.
They may subside and become silent when you have
triumphed over your struggles for honor, fame, or
wealth; but when misfortune comes the Shimeis will

sm.MKr TiiuowiNc; stoxks.

'.m

bo on hand to oiirsc you, to cast dust, and to tlirow
8toncs, especially if you have ever had any eonllict
with them. They can.;ot keep an honest and ener-
getic man from rising-, for they are the breeze against
the kite which may enable it to lly. They cannot
hurt you Avlien you are on top of earth's favor and
glory; l)iit when you once fall, they often sting you
Avith the keenest arrows of chagrin and sorrow, espe-
cially if they think you luive any likelihood of rising
up again.

Always be sure, in your efrf)i'ts to succeed in life,
that you do no man wrong; make no enemy justly,
for then in misfortune your Shimei could pierce you
through with many arrows whicii would sting your
conscience as well as your pride; but be sure that
if you have lived a positive and aggressive life for
good or greatness; if you have risen by battling down
the elements against all i)ositive development, and
then fall or fall, you Avill have your Shimcis at best
and anyhow. It will bo something precious then to
feel the grand and magmmimous indifTerence and re-
lief of David, who could say: *<Let liim curse, let
him throw stones, let him kick up his dust; he cannot
hurt me." You can then lea v'our Shimeis to God,
and, as best you can, leave youi self and misfortunes
to the same Ciod who brought off David more than
conqueror. A man in misfortune, cursed and stoned
by the Shimcis, and without the help of God, can
find his only relief — and that earthly and unsatisfy-
ing — in stoical indiflerence to pain as to pleasure.
But the miseries of David Avcrc turned into joy, and
the insults of his enemies recoiled upon their own
heads, because God was with him. lie acted Christ-
like on this occasion, and in fact in all this misfort-

ill

If-'

i f

• J'

'3U

SlUMKI TlUtOVVlNd HTONKH.

uiu! lio Hcunu'il u lypo of Cliiist. Say what you will,
Clirist teaches the only remedy lor the eiire of evil
and for the eoiuiue.st of eniuity and meanness. For-
give your enemies; do <.-(,„d to them that despifcCiilly
UHO yon; Mess for cnrsiny, and you will hea]) eoaks of
lire upon the heads of those who would injure you.
or course the application of this i)rinciple "relates to
])ersonal iiijuries. While J)avid s])arcd and lbr<,nive
Shimei, he pitched his armies against A hsalom, the
enemy of lii.s country; and while his own son was
.slain, his merely i)ersonal eiu>my was allowed to live,
and to live ashamed and abashed in the light and in
the sight of his base ingratitude. . A true and valiant
man would have rathei- died. Ahitho[)hel went and
lianged himself. In all matters of governmental or
olHcial or disciplinary duty the nmtter of nmgnani-
mous forbearance and forgiveness depends upon con-
ditions and circumstances; but in personal nuitters
C'hrist alone teaches us how to ccmquer enmity and,
if possible, turn our enemies into friends.

Love is the only true and invincible ruler of man-
kind, and love never was vanquished nor hurt by
the exercise of forgiveness and magnanimity, as the
wliole life of David demonstrated — save where in of-
ficial relations and duties lie allowed Ids affections to
be betrayed into a false indulgence. We nuiy always
look out for the Shimeis in misfortune; but in trust-
ing God and showing forbearance and kindness, we
have the surest promise and outcome of victory over
our misfortunes and foes as well. ?^o man ever failed
here, or ever will fail, every thing else being equal.
Earth nor liell can hunt a good man down, if he will
trust God in love, and do good for evil.

Especially can a man always afford to be magnani-

HIlIMKr TIIU<)WI\({ STON|.;s.

• )** **

inotiHwitli his Iocs when lie is Iriuinphant. Juab niul
Ahishai wiinlcd lo kill Shinici sjill,alU'r llu'y had re-
tiinu'd, lor cui'siiijn^ t|u> l.oid's iinoiiitcd. David i-i-
|)li('d: "Shall tluTt' a iiian he put to death this day in
Jsrad? loi- do not I know that I am this day kin<^
ovci' all Israf!?" So lu' Inrncd to Shinici and said:
*' Thou shult not die." And llur kinj,'- swart' nnto him.
An oHVndt;<l and Jealous tyrant wonid lia\(! slain tlu!
misiMvant, but tht- <^rent-hi'art('(l David could alloi'd
to bo <,^cncrous to his meanest enemy, especially when
no danj^i'r to the State was involved. AVhat a lesson
lor stati'snien to learn! and what a lesson ior all men
to coutiider! Undei" all cii-cumstaiu'cs avo must lovo
and I'or^ivo our i-nemics ;it heart, and whatever bo our
l)ersonal or olHcial relationships, it ])ays to bo gener-
OU8 to a i'alleu foe, if safety will jici-mit it.

A blot will ev(!r ri^main upon the escutcheon of
EujUi'land for her treatment <»f the ;i;reat ?sa])oloon
who cast liiniself ui)ou her mercy and nni;j^nanimity
She could, at least, liave placed him upon some spot
of earth, in some ])lace of conlinement, below or
above a troi)ical sun, where he mi<>*ht have enjoyed
the blessing' of health, and have lived and died in
the smiles of a g-cnerous and agi-eeable nature.
Saint Helena — the crater of an extinguished volcano
— sweltering nnder an eqiuvtorial sun, hung with
deadly mists, somber with the everlasting gloom of
barrenness, and torn with the terrors of the ])erpetu-
al tornado! Magnaninnty to a fallen and submissive
foe! My young friends, always bo forgiving, gener-
ous, and kind to your enemies — to yom* Shimeis; and
when it is possible, give them your hand ar»d restore
them to your confidence. Especially do this if they
repent and confess their wrong, as Shimei did — al-

;{

\)i

376

HIII.MKI THKOWI.VO STONES.

tlK.n-h J Imvo no eonfuhMu-o in David's Shi.nei, and
iHilmiKs ho Imd n..no. It is Inunan, and barely lui-
n.an, t.. art, the jmrt of a Sl.lmei; l,„t it is divino, it
IS ( hrist-liki', to act tlio jjart of J)avi(l.

Don't Ibro^i-t it, however, Shiinei will thn.w Htonos,
curse, and kick ui. a dust. Tiio- most insignificant
puppet can insult and hurt yon wlien you are down
AVlien the old lion in ^Esop's fable became decrep-
it and wa« about to die he realized this. The other
beasts, like the bull and the boar, came and ^n)red and
tnsked bini in his lielplessncss. He could bear the
ifeniominious insults and injuries received at the
bauds of wlmt bo considered his noble enemies, but
when the "ass" came and kicked him or kicked at
Jiim, when "the diso;racc of nature" scorned him in
the hour of bis misfortune, this was the keenest cut
and tbe deepest mortification to bis pride. A mono-
the Sbimeis will be the ass and the dog-, tbe nioanes't
and tbe lowest of tbe aniuuil family; and in m-sfort-
une wo must never be surprised at indirrnity from tbo
basest and vilest of nmnkind. So David feltj no doubt
as to his pusillanimous Shiinei. '

■ *-!'

PAST YGUN6 MAN TREED.

-^>+<-

Q
u
u

DC
H

Z
<

H
(0

SiffiiiSALOM had a fine head of hair— whether
El§lPtel blonde oi'bhick or auburn I do not know;
'•fyp^ and it nnist have been one of his chief
personal attractions. Bein-;- very luxnri-
^mt and lieavy in its growth, he " polled " or
^^i cropped it every year, and the weight of the
croi)ping amounted to " two Inindred shekels after the
kin'»-'s weight," equal to eight pounds Troy weight, ac-
cording to the Hebrew tables. Perhaps the " king's
weight " was something less, but at all events Absa-
som" carried a renuu-kable head of hair, so much so
that the divine record sees fit to mention the fact.
Perhaps he ornamented it with jewels and made it
glisten with unguents, after the fashion of his day;
and its beauty must have corresponded with its Aveight
and exuberance, the charm of the M'omen and the
wonder of tlie men.

To what extent this head of hair was a matter of
vanity to Absahmihimself Ave have no means of know-
ing, and we can only infer that it Avas by its i-eference
inlhe record to other things. AVe knov,^ that occasion-
ally we see men wearing hmg, heavy heads of hair, and
nobody ever saAV such a man that was not a creature
of great vanity. Most men clip or poll their hair
very closely, and perhaps Absalom did for aught we
•' (379)

ft)
I*'

fit

i'.'

II . i ■

■1

380

ill:

FAST YOUNG MAN TKEEl).

know, US he cut off eic^ht pounds of it everj year- but
me been displayed to groat advantao-e. Some of

:::zi:Tzt:t' '-'-'-'' "'''^'-'^-^'

There was another remarkable feature in Absalom's
personal malce.up. There was not "in all WP'
one to be so nnich praised for his beauty." It is
sau by he divine reeord that "fron. the Lie of his
foot to the crown of his head there was not a blemish

hood faul less ,n leature, symmetrical in %ure, and
blameless in stature and style. He could neith;r be
added to nor taken from in the proportion and make-

Ko dibt '?^"^^^^^"^»V"-^ --^«>ving this young man.
-No doubt his personal appearance was also a matter
ot vanity, without any vexation of spirit

He was just tlie fellow to pose himself on the street-
corner; and, with the air and assumption of his phys-
ical excellence, he would stand and enjoy the admira-
tion and ga.e of the passers-by, tiiousands of whom,
both^ male and female, are perfectly infatuated with
physical and f-iscinating beauty. As he walked the
streets or rode npon the thoroughfares of Jerusalem
hewas the subject of universal remark, naturally an
object of attraction and the subject of flattery and
adulation; and we may just imagine how his ears
pricked up at the buzz of applause, and how his heart
swelled with the conception of his j)ersonal impor-
tance. He was inflated well-nigh to bursting ^ith
bis bigness, all the result of the self-conscious pride
of his own personal splendor and of the praise and
admiration of the people constantly heaped upon him

FAST YOUNd MAX TUKKl).

381

I if*

Witli {ill this, however, Absalom was not a I'ool.
He was a young man of a hi<>li-toned sense of per-
sonal and family honor, and he never rested until lie
had killed Amnon for tlie ruin of his sister Tauuir.
He was a nuni who couhl kee]) his tong-ue and his
counsel, and, if iie cherished revenge as in the case
above, he had the ])atience and the unl'orgiving per-
severance of the Indian to wait and accomplish his
purpose elfectually. More than this, he was ambi-
tious, ami, like Kapoleon, he did not scruple at any
measure to reach an end. Commensurate with his
ambition lie possessed a bold and fearless spirit, a
strong and well-balanced judgment, a determined and
unwavering Avill; and he Avorked systematically and
cautiously to carry out his plans. He Avas a Ciosar
in genius, Avith all his pei-sonal vanity, and, unlike
most empty-headed and vain ])eople Avho become lost
in their OAvn personal attractions, Absalom utilized
his fascinating beauty and power for his purposes.

He Avas as perfect a demagogue as ever lived, and
with his charms of magnetism and splendor he stole
the hearts of the ])cople, " stole the hearts (jf the men of
Israel." After his return from exile, and after his res-
toration to his father's confidence and favor through
the instrumentality of Joab, pretending sorroAVand re-
pentance for the murder of his brother, he Avent delib-
erately to the Avork of undermining his father's power
and of usurping his throne. He rode the streets in
chariots, folloAved by retinues of sympathizers, Avhile
his father rode a mule; he met the disaffected and kissed
them, expressing his great sorroAV that the government
of his fether could not give justice to the people nor
foster the dignity of Israel ; and he Avas continually ex-
claiming: "O that I Avere made judge of the land.

V''

■!■"•;

it-

382

PAST Y()UX(J MAN TUK?:d.

that every man that liatli a suit or cau«o might eomo to
me, and I would do him justice I "

It was thus that this artful and able youno- o-enius
worked until he had Israel ripe for rebellion mid rev-
olution lo this end he seeretly sent spies through-
out the kingdom. A trumpet was to be blown upon
a certain day, and all Israel was to proclaim Absalom
king; and when the day came, hy permission of his
father, he went to Hebron under tlie pretense of of-
lering sacrifice; and here, w^th the counsel of Aliith-
ophel, the rebellion and revolution were oi-ganized So
secret was the work that David knew nothing of it
nor did those who accompanied Absalom from Jeru-
salem and had it not been for hasty messengers to
David, Absalom would have surprised him in his own
Jialace.

David fled with his friends and his little army to
Mahanaim, across the Jordan, and had God not con-
lounded the counsel of Ahithophel, through the ad-
vice of Ilnshai and tlie strategy of David, Absalom
would probably have followed his fiitherand defeated
him before he could have organized his forces for bat-
tle. Ihe battle of the wood of Ephraim was subse-
quently fought, and the forces of Absalom were de-
feated and routed with great slaughter. Absalom was
caught by the head, and no doubt his hair helped to
entangle liiin in the liranches of a great oak, and here
Joab found him and killed him. A pile of stonns was
heaped upon his dead body; and this was the fit monu-
ment erected to his filial ingratitude and rebellion.

He died the infamous traitor of his country, and
the name of Absalom will go down with those of Ben-
edict Arnold and the like to the disgrace of their his-
tory forever. Such men cannot succeed in the '^nd-

!!1

I!'

FAM' V(>1\(; MA.N VKKKD.

383

and howevei- graiul and noble in blood oi- position,
however I'air the pro-spects and promises of success,
they will g-o down nndei- the doom of liulnre and nn-
' der the characteristic fact that the way ol' the trans-
gressor is hard. AVhat abilities and possibilities were
those of wliich Absalom was i)ossessed! llow great
and glorions would religion and virtue have made
snch a young man! lie turned all his jjowers and
charms to treason and villainy, and he went suddenly
and withont i-emedy to everlasting as well as temporal
destruction.

In conclusion, let us draAV a few lessons from the
history of this young man — this fast young man at
last treed and slain like a Avild beast of the forest and
consigned to infamy and desjjair.

1. It is a dangerous and deadly thing to be beau-
tiful and not be good. Unconsecrated and wicked
beauty is a snare of the devil, and it almost always
becomes the victim of evil, <Jr olse the victimizcr of
innocence. It engenders pride and vanity, and it has
turned the great head and created the bad heart of
many an Absalom before and since. A " pretty man "
is seldom, if ever, of any account; and if he have
abilities, he but too often turns them to bad account.
It is dangerous for even a woman to be beautiful, and
it may be set doAvn as a rule that manly beauty al-
most always cai-ries Avith it a fatal charm. Most of
the greatness and goodness of this Avorld have been
contained in rough and ugly caskets. Beautiful vases
are seldom used for any thing but flowers. How far
Absalom's beauty went to ruin him we have no means
of knowing; but, from all the intimations, we may
judge that his personal vanity created the fatal ^Neni-

esis of destruction which swept before his fall.
25

ill

till

;ksi

lAsr vorxu MAN 'I'ni.KD.

2. \\

(' imaniiH' IVoiii I lie record Hint Altsjil

•nil \\t\H

also a siKtilcd \ oiini;' iiiiiii. His ladicr lovctl liiiiMvilh
an ovcrwiTnini;- alU'clicm, and lie cvidcnl ly indidud
him \vUlionl walcliin^' his course lo i>v«'r\ desire of
Ills laney and oC liis vanily. l\v killed liis jn-ollicr,
ho hnrni'd -loalt's edrn-lield, he heliayed his lather —
all in the laee o|" i)nrental h»\(' and I'or.uiveiiess; and it
ANonId seem that he liad been left, like many other
boN s, to in(hd,i;e his ])assions and his temper, to havt;
Ills own way iind i»nrsui' his own eoursi', nnehetdu'd l)y
jiarental or U',<>-al authority all his life, lie was his
lather's |)»>t and lavorlte, and the old kind's last lament
^•oes to show that, in spite ol' all .\])salonrs I'aultsand
crimes, he loved this hoy ahovc the yood and AvelCaro
of his kinii'dom and his count ry. Such ti'ainin^i^" and
imlnl,i;enci' would ruin any hoy, more espt'cially a hoy
ol' such lascinating" beauty and vicious lendencies as
Absalom possessed. Parents, look out loi-your boysj
boyjs, look out for yourselves.

3. .Vbsahun's ;;reat sin was lilial iuyi-atilnde, uul
the child which «loes not honor its parents sliali not
live honorably or louii' upon this earth. Impetuous,
violent, insolent, ]>roud, and)iti<nis, tn-acherons, un-
Bcrupulous, this youni>- nnui i>rew ir w ickedness and
I'cboUiou until ho could lay his hand upon his lather's
crown and take his father's life; and this is but the
common end of lilial inj^ralitude or disobedience,
when it has sulliciently developed, with iavorabli' o|)-
portunitles and temptations, in evi'rv case of disaster
and fatal termination toyonn<i'life in every generation.

How many children actually kill their ])arents, or
kill somebody else, or otherwise close their lives in
some fatal trag-edy! ami who can tell how mnch and
how many of these misfortunes and miseries of young

'■y

J'AST YUUMi MAN TUi;i;i).

IJH.J

liCi) mv tnu'C!ul)I(! to piircntiil iiidiil^uiico on ono huIo,
or to lilial iiiynititiido on tliu otliur? JJavid'H lant
^Tciit niiHlaki! wilh i\l)Haloin wiiM flio J'or;,Mvunc'H8 und
roHtoriitioii of his son lo conlidisnco and pnblic iUvor,
iilVt'i* his I'ctiirn IVoin llie oxiN; oi" (iL'slinr. Ho ioi-
f^'uvo Absalom without rci)onlaiicf, (lioii^-h hi; pre-
tended it; and he. then trusted him without walehin,!,'
.'lis c-ondiief. l"'<.r;j;iven(!ss and restoration, without
repentance aud reformation, wonld ruin both earth
and heaven and tm-n loose bad men and devils, und
sneh ('Imnency would be criminal and unmer<Mrul to
the <;-ood of Iieaven and earth. Al)saIoui playc^d tbo
liypocrite, and took advanta;,^! of his lather's unwary
ignorance; and innoocnco, and bis fatal end soon cul-
minated in the just retribution of hia dlaltolicul in-
g-ralilnde.

The end of Aljsalom is sad, especially wlion wo re-
llect upon what that young man "ndght iiave been;'*
and tlie saddest wail wJuch ever went up I'rom a broken
beart waw that of David at Wabanaim when be learned
of bis boy's death: "And tbe king- was mucb moved,
and went np to the chamber over the gate, and wept:
and as he went, thus lie said, O my son Absaloml my
son, my son Al)salom! woidd (iod I bad died for tbec,
O Absalom, my son, my son! " lie knew that his bad
boy, im])enitent and unbelieving and ungrateful to the
last, was notoidy dead, ]n\tlost! He knew, too,tbatbi8
own training and indulgence bad been sucb as to bo
somcAvbat tlu; cause; of his final disaster: and notbiu'^''
can be more torturing to a ])ai-ental lieart than to feel
that it bas a l)oy in bell Avitli a sense of responsibility
for bis being there. God save ns all from David's
last lament over a lost boy! and may God save your
boys from Absalom's fatal end, bis everlasting ruin!

.li • -i

HOUSE OR R ROGK.

«tJ»*<^

\^J(-'W!^y>yiE'NT cities and liouses were geiu'rally
fe^^ip^ built upon lii'^li ph

K;^^}f, - "1^™ ^''o'^ places, and csjjccially in

'^\^ cities tlicy sought some high oiiiinence I'or
1/M ^''0 citadel, as at Konie, and as the Acropolis-

, i 'ii^f^ the Acrocorinthus at Athens and rorinth.

^^ Theso places, however, were chosen rather lor
defense than for foundations; but in JNIatthew vii.
24-27 we find u sort of parabolic illustration of the
pictorial idea before us. It reads as follows, from t!ie
lips of Jesus: "Therefore whosoever hearoth these
sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto
a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and
the rain descended, and tlie floods came, and the
winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not;
for it was founded upon a rock. And every one that
heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not,
shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his
house upon the sand: and the rain descended, and the
floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that
house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it."

The rci'son for the fall, of course, is implied in the
fact that it Avas built upon the sand. It could not
stand against the floods, built down in the sandy val-
ley, where foolishly some built their houses in ancient
times, just as they do to-day. The house built upon
(386)

IIOITSK <)V A KOCK,

:i8;»

the rocky snnunit or liill-sidi- could uvwv be alU't't-
ed l)y the Hood, liowever sevtrely the Avinds iiiii^Iit
blow or the rains fall or the storm beat u[)oii it.
lleiico the wise man builds his house iii)on a rock,
far above the lh)od-ll<K'; and it is only tlie foolish
man Avho, when lie could hcl[) it, would build in the
sandy gov^v or ui)on tlie overll«>\ving- valley.

We have seen a recent illustratic-n of this truth in
the terrible disaster of Johnstown and other locali-
ties swept by the awful Hoods of 1881). The break-
ing- of a great daui above the city carried olf hundreds
of houses, destroyed three thousand lives, and eight-
een nullion dollars' wo:- ii (»f property. Every thing
in the valley was devastated, while the buildings on
the hills were untouched and not a life lost. So at
Johnstown, X. Y., more i-ecently — a sti-ango coinci-
dence of two cities having the same name, damaged
alike by Hoods in the same season — and so of Xenia,
Ohio, a year or two ago.

Ofter.^in this countiy and in others, many i)eople
are compelled in our cities to build in the valleys and
hollows and along the rivcr-l)anks, but they liavo to
risk the flood, however unwise and precarious the sit-
uation, by uecessity. Xo Avise num, however, Avhere
he AVt;s not forced by circumstances to locate, would
build his house in the sandy valley, or in the creek or
river bottom, Avhen ln' might know that sooner or
later he Avould l)e swept tiway by the flood. The
fool alone would be guilty of such a folly; and yet
there are thousands of just such fools in the Avorld.

A certain village located at the foot of "Vesuvius
has been destroyed fourteen times, and yet successive
generations c(mtinuc to repeat the folly and risk the
destruction which Avill some time certainly follow, an-

% M

¥ n

ill

ina:i

11^

i' V

a.yj

IH'USK ox A JMX'K.

old Vesuvius J

»»s oxliaust,.,! hov lU'vy l.onds of
> ntl. -not <.l conMm..i..u. TIut. i. a villao.. i.. tho
AU^ locaU.l under a l.u^e preoipiee .,r Inn^ln"
rock .nd llu^^^reat rock has been leanin^^ iiulher
mid ia..,,K.Mo>v:ml the village io.. ,...,,, ^.,1 ^,
these v,lla^^vr.s In. and oat and m-,4 and sK.,, 's

ami lools ine under ti.e threatening d„oni of that
K(,ck eve.y ,h,y, against Avhieh (o stumble they slndl
>o bnda.no, ,ie^^^^^^
giind them into j)o\v(U'r.

The Avise man buihis Ids house upon son.e elevated
pluee; digs deep and gets u good foundation, and if
ho cannot fnnl a rocdc, he puts a rocdc beneath his ed-
ifi-o, lor a ba.al support. This is the figure of the
man who (1) /,,„,, the words of Jesus arig:.t, and (2)
does them according to his hearing. It is one thin Ao
hoar them another thing to hear and heed them Avith

LftrV;" 'f"r^';^' ^^"^^ '' ^« q^^te another and a
be tor tlnngtodo.hem. There are a undtitude of
^^ay-sule hearers, a large nun)ber of '^ stony-
ground and " thorny-groumi " heeders, but there
are but few "good-gr<,und ' believers and doers ac-
cording (o the word and the will of fi,>d. These bit-
ter alone bring iorth fruit to perfection-some thirly,
some sixty, some a hundred fold, according to ca^
ZaZT! 7-'-t"-ty-and these alone are L wise
and Avel -to-do hearers and doers of the word of God
Ihese alone will be saved by grace ■( last, and re-
varded for the.r works; for these alone have t' . wise,
he "imderstanding," the "honest." the ^ ..cod-
heart of that wonderful ],arable of the sower. These
not only sow in the common soil of the human heart,

IIOUHK OX A HOCK.

:wu

as the otiiers do, but all the conditions of g„od now-
iiip-- arc adde<l. The stones are piled out of the way,
thetlioins are plucked up, tlie fallow ground is bi'o-
Iccu hy til" Holy Spirit, and the soil i> penetrated,
uilhout ol)sta('le, hy the seeds of eternal truth an.!
livine life. These -,'•0 down to hed-roek ujion whii-ii

e is ero( ted upon the solid

Kocl

to build, and their edilit

foiiudati(»n of Christ, the Kock (.f A-vs— "the

that is hi^duM- than I " and deeper than earth.

Jt is not a surface and sandy foundation, and the
work erected thereupon is not an unsuhstanlla! air.
castle, so often built in delusion upon the ilhisiv, and
false foundation of mere religious fancy. ^J'he true
bearer ami doer of (iod's word is a solid'builder upon
a solid foundation, reoo<,ndzln- that there is no other
luune but Christ under hcavei.. «>-iven among men,
whereby we can be saved -no other foundation which
we can lay than that already k. id, which is Christ.
Hohammed, Confucius, IJuddha, v. ill m)t do for foun-
dations; the lawof ]\[oses and the philosophy of Soc-
rates will not do for saving creeds; the systems of
Joseph Smith, Swcdcnl)oi-o-, Sanck man, und others
will not do for guides to eti'nial lile

How firm n foinulntion, j o saints . t' tlio Lorck
Is laid for your fiiith in Mh t'xcolk nt worck'

I always love to sing that splendid h niu, written by
Edward Mote :

My hope is bnllt on nothin<,' k^s^
Tlmu Jesus' blood and righteou;- ess.

On the other iumd, the foolish buillor erects his
house upon the sand. He is a hearer of God's word,
but he is a doer not. If he believes Christ, lie takes
him as a formal and theoretical Saviour; and in his

' "1

,t ,

!i 1'!

392

IIOUSK OX A ItOCK.

Bo-eallecl bchef of the truth he puts the .saenunents
before the blood of Christ and in order to the grace
ot 0,od. The minister, the ordinance, the Church
are his saviors at last; and Jesus Christ is only a
Mediator through the ^mediators of lunnan tradi-
tion and superstition thrust between (iod and the faith
of the iminortal soul. This is putting the signs of sal-
vation before the salvation itself, and stopping, neces-
sarily, at the sign-just as a man gets to a sign-board
live miles from town, imagining that the sign- board
18 the toAvn; and this is building m the sand, and not
on the Rock, even in Christianity. These hear the
word and do it not in Goci's Avay, nor according to
God s will; and salvation by Christ must be immedi-
ately through faith in Christ, the building afterward
and upon Christ. The blinded ritualist^or formalist
proposes to build before he gets to Christ, and this is
building on the sandiest foundation of the most illu-
sive delusion.

The rationalist builds upon an airy Christ and pays
no attention to forms and ceremonies. ^1,0 ritualist
believes too much, the rationalist too little; and ei-
ther might as well not believe at all; for ])roving too
much Ls the same as proving too little, and going too
tar is the same as coming short. The poor rational-
ist iiears God's Avord, knows of Christ, but lie trans-
lorms him into a good man, a model and perfect
character, an infallible teacher appointed of God
and salvation is without the atonement of blood aiul
without the direct aid of the Holy Spirit. A man
saves himself, under this system and model of a per-
fect pattern, by ethical culture; and this is but an-
otlier saiuly foundation upon which thousands build
then- hopes of eternal life. They are heflrers, but do-

HOUSE OX A ItOCK.

393

ers not of tlio truth; and their house, like that of the
ritualist, Avill fall in the flood of the great day, and
great will bo the fall of it, for it is apparently a very
substantial and beautiful building. It looks grand to
liinnau eyes, but it is an air-castle in God's sight, and
it has nothing but a quicksand foundatio.i.

There are quite a ninnber of others building on the
sand who hear and do not the Avord of God. A dy-
ing Mason said recently, when asked about his soul:
"It is all well with me; there is nothing too good in
the gift of God for a good Mason." So speak thou-
sands of Masons, Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias,
Knights of Honor, moralists, Pharisees, and the like.
They know of Jesus, that he died to save sinners, that
he came to save the lost, that his word proves all to he
lost; but these men find no need for a Pedeemei-, a
Mediator, a Daysman, to stand between them and Ciod.

Their good works, their moral characters, their fan-
cied goodness, stand as JSIediator and Saviour. Xo,
indeed; they do not need salvation by grace. They
are not lost at all. Heaven belongs to them of right.
God is under obligations to them; and if they have
ever done Avrong, they keep a. debit and credit ac-
count Avith the great God, in which their good deeds
overbalance their bad deeds. This nuikes Jesus
Christ unnecessary for them; aiul if he died for any-
body, he did not die for them. They knoAV and rec-
ognize him as a Saviour, perhaps, for drunkards
^uul blackguards; good for women and children too,
but not Avorth a cent to a good Mason, Odd FcIIoaa',
moralist, or Pharisee. They never need even to
pray, except to thank God and congratulate them-
selves that they arc nf)t as bad as other men, and
that such good men as thcmsolves are in the Avorld

:¥•■

-Ml

i'M

HOUSE OX A HOCK.

and AVi] people heaven in company .vitli the ang-dsl
IJ.o Bible .s an old cnnosity-shop to them, pmyer
and preaclunc. and Chnrches are g-ood moral instUn-
tions, bnt hey need no Jesus as a Saviour and Ke-
deemer. AI this is buiidin.^ on the sinking, sand;
and of all the men ,vho uill go down darkest and
deepest l.-^ncath the overwhelming. Hood of the last
great day, it will be this self-deceived class of peo-
ple. Ihey build to themselves pretty houses, but
ll.cy have no fonndation; aud in the day of judgment
we shall want a foundati(m rather than the buildino-
erected npon it. °

The wise man's house may not bo so beautiful and
iiniqne, but its foundation will stand. He will be
npon a l.>ock. He may lune put son,e " wood, hav,
Btnbble" into his building, the loss of which he will
suf er by tlie fire-yea, he himself may be " saved so
as by fire;'' but he shall be saved, nevertheless, be-
cause Ins fomidation shall stand. The foolish man
may i)ut some "gold, silver, precious stones," into his
budding— most excellent works within themselves:
but even these he shall lose, because his building shall
g-o with his false and unsubstantial foundation. Give
me the good foundation and let my building be ever
so humble and crude and Avorthless.

On wliat foxmclnfion do you build, neighbor,

Your hopes for tho future fair?
Do your walls reach down to the rock below.

And rest securely there?
Alas! wliafc folly 'tis to build, neighbor,

A mansion so fair, so grand.
With its costly walls and its lofty towers,

On sin's delusive sand!

Is!
er
u-

St
0-

It
It

1^!

BIG'I" ANDLiTTLE"YOU."

D
O
>

-I

z
<

o
S

\j\'jV()liE 3'on is a picture wliicU I tliink siif-
licicntly suggests the subject Ibr discus-
sion. I need not stop to explain tlie il-
lustration. AVe liave all seen something' of
this character a thousand times in life — big "1 "
and little "you" — and ifnot sulliciently delin-
eated and attitudinized, yet so apparent as to mean
what our picture is intended to cxi)ress. These big
folks are looking down with contempt uj)on the little
ones, and the little ones are looking up with mingled
wonder and chagrin U|)on the big ones; and so it is
and ever has been and w ill ever be luitil we I'cach the
other world. There the i)icture in Uiultitudes of in-
stances will be changed, ifnot reversed, and in many
an instance Dives will call for Lazarus, who used to
lie, in poverty and full of sores, at the rich man's
gate, feeding ui)on the rich man's crumbs and minis-
tered to by the rich man's dogs. AVhether in hell or
heaven, however, nobody v.ill have the big- "I" or lit-
tle " you," for, whatever the difl'erences then, there will
be too nuich of business on hand, Avhcther of a hai>])y
or an luipleasant nature, to be looking at our distinc-
tion in weal or woe.

Xot unfrequcntly Ave meet iieo])le on the street or
in the social and collective gatherings of our fellow-

(••!97)

<Si^

398

HI(r "l" AXJ) LITTLE "yoU.'

men who sNvuy the lofty airs of sc'If-iin],ortunce and
seem to inn.o-ine that the whole earth I)clon<>s to them
even in reimblican Ameriea; and they look down with
sneenno. ..nd snarliiio- contempt npon every Ihino- and
everybody considered beneath their self-assnnied dig-
nity. AN e rocoo-nize repeate.lly that some ])eoplc have
g-ot the big. " 1 " and the little - yon," and " got it bad, '
11 my pohte and courteous friends will permit me to
employ a little forcible and pungent slang-a thin- I
only do by permission, according to the demands^)f
the subject which requires justice.

Of com-se there is a dillcrence among men \11
men are equal belbre God and in the light of liberty
and law— at least, supposed tol,e-in this country.
Jntellcctually, socially, and circumstantially, however
we all difter, as the trees, hills, and rivers differ, or as
the beasts of the field and the birds of the air ^^o
can t make all men wise and good alike, cultured and
rehned alike, rich and well circumstanced alike, hio-h
and honoral)le alike; and we have no right to foix-e
any man to choose his companions or partners in busi-
ness or social relationships. Naturally "birds of a
leather flock together." Learning- and ignorance are
not congenial, and so of wealth and poverty, refine-
ment and boorishness, religion and ini<iuity, virtue and
vice. Incongruities and opposites cannot be driven
to the doctrine of social equality in the affairs and re-
at.onships of men. Congeniality and the fitness of
th.no>, constitute the fundamental law npon which all
confidential and harmonious association among human
beings or any other beings is based. Under no other

Ztn7 ' '"''^ '"' ^'' '''''^' '" appreciate and enjoy
each other s company on earth, in hell, or in heaven
liut while we arc thus arbitrarily independent of

l«l(i "l" AM) LITTLE "YOU.'*

399

each other we are mutually and morally interdepend-
ent from every other stand-point in lite, and no one
human being can allbrd to look down upon an-
other with contempt and disdain. AV e are to pity the
fallen and lost even as Christ did, and so far as the cir-
cumstances or inherent differences aiuony us are con-
cerned we are ever to remember that it was God w ho
made us to dilfer. Every man and woman, honest
and upright, doing the best they can with what they
have, is filling the sphere ordained of God; and what-
ever the differences between them and us, created by
conditions and circumstances, we must feel that be-
fore God they are our equals in fidelity and merit. To
whom much is given of him Avill much be required,
and vice versa, and we shall find that for equal fidelity
God will award equal honor, whatever the differences
in gifts and talents. " Well done, good and faithful
servant," will be the divine plaudit Avhich will come
to Mary, Avho did " what she could," as well as to Paul
with his hundred talents utilized. God's lines of
judgment, in this respect, cross all the lines of human
decision, and our rules of reckoning and honor Avill
have no w^eight at the judgment-seat of Christ.

We should remember that, upon this point of mut-
ual and moral dependence, the man behind the plow-
handles, " Paddy with his spade," the poor w'oman
running the sewing-machine, the engineer and the
fireman, the hod - carrier and the wood - cutter, are
Avorth as much to society, business, government, edu-
cation, and religion as the Governor, the Congress-
man, the preacher, the millionaire, and the gentleman
and lady who live in stone fronts and ride in car-
riages driven by liveried flunkeys. Here and in the
house of God "the rich and the poor meet together:

'4'

400

UIU "l" AM) hITTLK " VOU."

the Lord is the nmker of them all." (Jotl did not
make us all alike, nor in this world to oeeupy the
same position; but aecordiny to his law of universal
variety and diversity, threaded by the o-ohlen woof of
unity and harmony, he has nuide ns to differ, and yet
to be dei)endent upon one another. The foot has no
right to stump the toe, the l)and no rio-ht to cut the
finger, the eye to right to mock the lids, the nose no
right to snub the lips, the lips no right to cnn-1 at the
teeth. Every position or work in Hie is a trust from
God, according to condition, and every man and
woman, of whatever elevation, shoidd look with a
sense of profound honor and recognition ui)on the low-
est man in the lowest calling doing his duty. The man
or the wonuin below me who makes the bread I eat,
the clothes T wear, the house I live in, the car J ride
in, the street I w\alk on, is my best friend on earth.
We are mutually dependent upon each other, and I
should feel myself meaner than the bi-ute to despise
the boot-black who polishes my shoes, or to refuse rec-
ognition and courtesy to any honest and laithful hu-
man being in the humblest calling of this life.

]More than this, we should i-emember that the whole
world is akin, that the God who made us to differ is
our connnon Father, and that Jesus Christ is our Elder
Brother. This is especially true spiritually, and it is
true naturally and in the flesh. For Chi-ist's sake we
are debtors to all the world " made of one blood," as
the apostle spake of himself. To scorn one of my fel-
low-beings because of his lowly condition is to scorn
God and Jesus Christ, esi)ecial]y so if I claim to be
a Christian and profess to love God; and such a pro-
fessor of the Christian religion is a hypocrite and a
liar, according to the loving John. I tell you that the

■^V-'.^ak.f.

liKi

AND LITTLK " YOl."

101

;1 of divinity

dell

gospel or uivinity is a Uelusion held by the man who
does not recog'ni/e and practice thi^ gospel oi" human-
ity. It is this double gospel which creates the mis-
sionary and the evangelist and the philanthropist, and
the grandest beings w ho ever ViwA were such men as
Howard and Kaikes and Judscju, such women as
Florence Nightingale. To such the hospital, the lazar-
house, the heathen jungle, the poor children, the dens
of vice and poverty, the hovels of misery have been
welcome places, and such have reached the clearest
and loftiest ai)prehension of divine and luiinau rela-
tionshijjs. Love is the genius of Chi-istianity ; those
who have reached the loftiest heights and the deepest
depths of this princi])le, however great in talent and
l)osition, have been the least and humblest at God's
feet and at the feet of helpless and depraved hnman-
ity. Like their Master, they liavc washed the world's
feet, and thus they have become the world's grand el-
evator, both ill civilization and religion. They have
remembered the pit from which God digged them, the
rock from which he hcAved them; and, recognizing our
universal equality in sin, our common elevation to the
salvation and glory of heaven, they have cast them-
selves at the feet of the lowly and lost millions in or-
der to best honor (iod and best save the world. Such
men and women have never Icnow^n the big "I" and
little "you" in any relationship of life.

But now let us be somcwdiat more cx])licit and il-
lustrative. Let us classify a little and see sonu thing
more tangibly jnit of those who have the big "I"
disease, who look down upon those they think beneath
them, and who scorn poverty, ignorance, and hclidess-
ness as execrable.

1. There is the intellectual pedant. He is a dab-

402

llUi

i( , "

I ANJJ JJTTLK " VOL.'

blc m loarnn.o-, an.I ban never lean.o.l >vl,al a Ibol he
IH .n the ho-ht ol- wis,lo„,. It is not every Ui.lettered
man who ih a I0..I; lor those who know how lillle thev
do know, and act with diseretion and eourlesy, are
^^^He acconhn^^ to their degree of n.ind an.I enltnre.
\V hen the youn^^ nn.n in (.olle<.e reaches - Sopho-

.l..s.-ate the d.irerenee between the pe<lant and
rlnlosopher by a poetic application of n.ine to
"J winkle, Twnd<U>, J.ittle Stai : "

'Twns nt tlio window stood tlic boy,

Oii(> beauteous, Kjxirklinj,' iii;^ht;

Hi.s .spirit iflowod, oura|)t with joy'

And filknl with child's delight.
H." vi.nved the skies b(>8tud witli gold,

In wild j)rofiision laid,
And through the spangled dome of old

His childish fancy played.
He marked tliegcMus of lustrous glow,
And fixed his i)ensive eyes.

And oft the mystic grandeur I, ew

The child's increased surprise:
" Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
How I iroiHhr what you are!"
The boy had older grown to years,

^Vith toils of studied lore,
Had mounted uj) through sweat and tears

From " Fresh " to " Soj)li,)more."
He viewed again the sparkliug dome,

Each star lie knew by name;
And, wise above the ken of home,

His father put to shame.
About these wondrous orbs ho knew

It all— their size and mold,
Their distance far, and people too,

Tli(>ir composition told.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
Know cxaiihi what you are! "

"l" AM) I.ITTLK "voir."

i(»;i

Tilt' lioy Imd ufroiviHo iiiiiiiIkxmI's priimi,

To |lllil()K(IJ)llic Jli^C,

Anion},' tlio Htars timt bri^^litcHt sliino

An iistrononiic siii^c .
Tlmt spurklini; ditnic linortcn swept

With tclt'Hcopic! eye,
To know it all li(> wou'd Imvc wc|)t

\\'itli sp('c(ros('o[)ic si^di.
H« stood (if^'MJn lit window old

As wlicn 1li(( little boy,
Ami np tlie stnny iii^dit nnd cold

Me ninsed with cliildish joy;
" T .viiikle, twinkle, little Ktiir,
Ho V I woNDKU wluit you are!"
So Wohstcr felt wlicii lie o|.ji,l,iiit('(l jiiul, it is said,
tore liis cli])l<)iiia In two with tlin expression: "(ien-
tlenieii, you sliall lie:ir I'roiu me iioajn." So Xewton
felt Jis ]i]<e iv little eliild [lickin^r np shells upon tlio
shore, with the «>rjin(l oeean of discovery still spread
out before lii in. (ireat and wise mcii CihI liftle, and
l<no\v uothino- (d'tlie -bio- head," the l)i,i," 1 "and lit-
tle "you." The noble and learned man, unless vant-
iug iu common sense, is ever condeseendiui^' and help-
ful to others. True wisdom is meek and lowly, the
most sim])le and ehild-like lliini;- in Ihe world.

2. 2sotiee the self-riohtcons swell. "I am holier
than thou," and he is about as nnieh alleeted with the
big " 1 " disease as any other man in the universe.
Witness the i)roud Pharisee and the ])oor publican in
the temple. The one looked down with contemj)t and
horror upon the other, thanked God that he did so
much for good, and that lie was not as other men were;
while the other would not so much as lift his face to
God, but smote ni)on his broken heart and said: " God
be merciful to me, a sinner." The Pharisee thought
God under obligations to him, and justified himself;

it I

i '

401

liKJ

I AM) UTTM-: " V

OU.

while the p.mr piihlicn. (•(.mU'iimnl I

iiiigiithejiistiiitMi or (;,„[. s

IK'ople, llu'Sf iH'i-ri'ctionisti

with thc'iusfl

vcs. sfuiii to IW'I that tl

''"iscK; that he

oiiu! of these "holinoHs"

wli«»\v erjiiiil hiiti.sracti()n

U'V jiic special
own and vail out

pets of tho J.oid, and they |„„k d
I'lxm those ofns whon. they consider only in th-
;7'-; -«r'or.eli..io„sio.n.„,,„,,. Wo...ethan
'II this IS l.atanstenv.seetie, han;,H,ty, seeh.sive, an.l
]on-laeed hypocrite, so.netin.e.s seen even in this
demoeratic ajje of looseness or inlidelity, ^^ho scorns
every th.n^. l.eneath him uhich he calls " common an.l
inielean. J»ooplo of other denominations are nnHt
to Hit in his pew, and one-half of his own denomina-
tion is beneath his contemj.t. I heard a 'adv of a
certain Chnrch, a few years ao-.,, when the people of
another Chnrch were menti.med, exclaim: -O the
wretched thino-sl " And she cano-ht hold of her dress
and shook It, in imitation, I suppose, of the ancient
I harisees when they elntched their garments and rent
them at the sight of something desecrating and horri-
)le I thought she had a had case of religious big
T andhttle ^von." Of all the places in the world I
have often ielt that no one should have this disease in
■•ol.gion; hut there are only two places in thenniverse
where people do m.t have the swell-head: one of tliem
IS heaven and the other is hell, as alreadv suggested

'i. Observe the social snob. Great heavens, forbid r
The peacock, in the airy realms of fancv and vanity
struts and spreads his tail and squawks in vain The
snob IS seldom, if ever, a person of culture and refine-
ment lh,s class generally belongs to the cod-fish,
the shoddy, tlie galvanized aristocracy, which builds
fine houses and has elegant furniture, and then pur-
chases an imitation library. It is said that one of

hl(i

AM) i.n'i'i.i.

Vol

405

tlu'Di (Hico b()u;;ht n ival nvt of flue and coHtly books,
mul wlii'ii ono row of tlicm was fo<t |oii;j; lor the slu'lf
ho ordered the (•ai'|>».'iil»'r to saw oil' the top of the
l)ooks so as to lit thu library I Tliis was Just as ^ood
liicdc as any to llu" owner, lor tlie l)ooks were woilli-
less toliini, and only lit lor show. However, he slionid
Imvo had tasle enough lor res[)ectablu display even in
his useless library.

It is usually a litth' money, without brains oi- edu-
cation, which nnikes the social snob; and, with tho
artilicial and superlieial nnixinis and customs of so-
called society, he, she, or rather it, is turned into the
biggest fool which stalks the eai-th. Walking the
streets or riding in liveried phaeton or visiting tho
stores, where the clerks are required to pull down all
the goods in the house, or at social gathei-ings or in
the house of God — all the same and every when; — the
cbaractei'istic assuni[)lion of airs, the haughty hear-
ing, the curled lij), the cynical sneer, the swing and
swell of the body, tell you in unniistakable terms that
the snob is abroad. Some of them belong to the
Church; but Mrs. IJurnett — now called ISFrs. Wnvneffe
— doesn't rccogni/t^ old I^eacon Thompson, who built
her house, and old Mrs. Johnson, who made the dress
she wears. She belongs to a "'first-class Church,"
and she would be better satisfied if " those poor trash "
were in the "socond-class Church" over on Clabl)er
Avenue. She expects to go to heaven, T suppose; but
how in the name of connuon sense she expects to as-
sociate v^ith her carpentei' and dress-maker there must
puzzle her social ideas terribly. It might be safe to
say, however, that she need not trouble herself upon
that subject if l)iety or humility or humanity in any
form is to constitute one of the characteristic evi-

deuces of Christianity. She wouhln't recognize Jesus
and his (ialilean lishernien at all if they should ap-
pear as they used to do in olden time.

Let me say that you never catch blooded aud relined
stock in this crowd, nor will you catch common sense
ami piety there. The Washiugtons and the Lees and
the Jetlersons would not let a ucgi-o outdo them in
l)oliteuess, aud it is said that the nobility of England
are far moi-e condescending and courteous than the
snobbish middle classes. High-born utanliood and
wonuinliood, common sense, purity, and piety never
strut nor savcII nor play the pe(bint. The dude and
the dudiiu' never Ijclong to these genuine connuon-
senso aiul meritorious classes. 'J'he young man and
woman who are ashanunl of tlieir plain old father and
mother oi- of their " country cousins " nuiy be very
" tony " aud reserved aiul superb to outward ap])ear-
ances, 1)ut Avithin all is hollow' or rotten. I like dig-
nity, self-respect, uoble bearing, cultivated aiul re-
fined social life; but deliver me from the galvanized aud
shoddy sham of the big "I" and little "you'' circle.
T do uot ol)Ject to wealth or s])]cndor or magnifi-
cence with a soj^Zin it; and when it is adorned with
culture and l)iety — not so often the case — it is just as
useful and good as it is ormunental and attractive.
We all admire grand and noble men and women, and
whether socially or otherwise related to such, we do
not feel disparaged or overshadowed by them. How-
ever big your '' T " is, young ])eople, howevei- small
my " you," never show^ that you know it. At far-
thest, don't let the swell-head go beyond your teens.

>!r

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THE DEVIL fl-FISHme.

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I^^^^JIJ^Y picture speaks for itself. His Satanic Maj-
^t^jy^W^^l esty is sitting upon tlxi blufls of what may

'^ be called the "Devil's Lake "—a title
very frequently given to certain bodies of

v/ater in this and perhaps in other countries.
'i^ lie has set out his fishing-rods, as is seen, all
around the beach; and, with his hooks variously bait-
ed, he IS angling for his game, according to his voca-
tion. In the hitter part of this sketch I will take up his
fishing in detail as illustrated in the jiicture before you.
In order to appreciate the devil, it must not be for-
gotten that he is a person — not a mere ideal, and not
the mere personification of evil. He is not a mere
injluence floating about in the air, nor culti%'ated in
the heart. Every man is not, per se, his own devil, as
some maintain. The world in which Ave live is not a
devil, nor a multitude of devils. There are three
distinct enemies of the soul — the world, the flesh, and
the devil — in collusion and combination with each
other, but one only of these enemies is the devil.
lie is an identical, intelligent, artful, subtle, and
mighty being, and he is assisted by an innumerable
company of devils, or demons, like himself. He is
distinguished by the ])ronoiins "he" and "him" and
"his," and the Bible, from beginning to end, repre-

(409)

410

THE DEVIL A-irsiIIXO.

sents him personally, jictively, and intelligently in the
work of sin.

AVhen \\e take the case of Job, or the Saviom-'s
temptation, or when seen falling like lightning from
heaven under the preaching of the disciples, or when
entering a herd of swine, or when possessing and
tearing a lunatic, Satan appears befoi-e us in all his
individuality and personality. He is called "the
prince of darkness," " the ])riuce of the power of
the air," "Satan," "adversary," "liar," "serpent,"
"dragon," and other names to distinguish his per-
sonality and character; and he is represented as go-
ing up and doAvn, to and fro, in the earth— "going
about as a roaring lion, seeking Avhom he juay de-
vour." He tempted Adam and Eve in the garden of

Eden, and this was the first lime he went a-fishing

baiting his hook with the forbidden fruit. He dis-
])uted with the angel over the body of Moses, and
among tlie last utterar.ees of the Saviour was that
Satan cometh and "findeth nothing" in him. He is
called the " ovil one" — not evil, nor an evil ])rinci])le
itself; and he is principally and emphatically the groat
" tempter " of mankind. From this idea we draw the
l^icture of him a-fishing.

Let me say, right here, that the devil has a price
upon the head of perhaps every human being, and
this i)rice is the bait he throvrs to every victim im-
l)aled upon his hook. Every man has one or more
Aveak ])oiuts in the fortress of his nature and charac-
ter, and no one is any stronger against the assaults of
the arch-fiend than at his Avoakest point. Eveiy man
has the Aveight of evil upon him and the "easily be-
setting," the Avell-clrcumstanccd "sin;" and even the
Christian has to lay these aside to run Avell and sue-

'm^

cessfully upon the race-course for eternal lioncjrs. Sa-
tan Avell knows our nature and all our weak jjoiuts —
sometimes infinitely better than we know them our-
selves — and it is through the weak place that he
thrusts his temptations or makes his assaults.

AVhat would be a price upon one man's head would
not ))e upon anothei'. A very small bait catches some
people. A trout seldom bites at an ang'le-worm, and
a sucker never gets caught with a minnow. A mud-
cat will take any thing, and a shark bites at larger
bait. What is true of fishes is true of men, and it is
seldom, if ever, that you Avill find one who will not
bite, in a state of nature at least, at some time or oth-
ei", if the circumstances are favorable and the right
kind of bait is thrown to him. One man Avould not
be tempted with hundreds of dollars, but the thou-
sands would take him into tlie devil's net. Some men
cannot be caught with money at all, but women or
Avine Avould lead to theii' ruin. Thousands are gov-
erned neither by lust nor ap])etite, but pride and am-
bition will bait them to destruction. There are those
who have neither lust nor appetite, neither ambition
nor pride, whom vanity and fancy and pleasure draw
away into the airy realms of a frivolous and useless
life, and who let slip the good of time and the glory
of (rod for the butterfly bait of the devil's smallest
gratifications.

Some of God's people sell out, for the time being,
at Satan's price upon every human head. David and
Samson and Solomon were baited and fell sadly into
the devil's traji, and so of thousands before and since.
Joseph was baited, but he didn't bite; neither did
Daniel and the Hebrew children, when offered the
king's meat and Avine in the palace of Babylon.

412

TIIK J)KVIL A-F1SIII\(;.

Tlierc are but few of even the best of God's children
who do not bite at something, some time oi- other and
m this country tliey occasionally -o from the Church
and the ^unili;y-school to the penitentiary for enibe/-
zling- bank-funds under Satan's bait of speculation-
one of the bi-gest and most tempting- he ever offers
to g-ood people. It is said of Dr. Wa.ts, the o-reat-
est of hymn-writers, that he was thought to be''al)so-
utcly tree from pride and vanity. A certain infidel
had watched him and made his boasts that he could
detect the weak place in Dr. AVatts's character. He
met him and tried often to tempt him with flattery.
lie told him of his splendid abilities, his fine charac-
ter, his noble reputation, his ])opularity as a writer
tlie immortality of his productions, but he never could
detect any chan-e in the tone « countenance of the
Doctor. At last one day lie said to him : " Dr. AVatts,
you are the plainest man I ever saw, to be as great a
man as you are." It is said that the Doctor's face
crimsoned, and the infidel had at last touched his
weak spot. liis pride was his plainness, and upon this
point he had reserved his weakness.

So it may be said of the best, perhaps, who ever
.ived that they have some soft place in their nature
which, unguarded, will open the heart to the snbtle
approach of Satan. " Let him that thinketh he stand-
eth take heed lest he fall." There are none safe away
irom the feet of Jesus and living out of the fear of
God. If the best Christian of earth is in dan-er
what of the unconverted world? It is safe to say tliat
there is not a man out of Christ who lias not the
dovil s hook in his mouth. He may be honest, up-
right, moral, and perfect in all Ids external conduct
beiore men, but if he is neglecting or rejecting sal-

THE DKVIL A-FISIIING.

413

vation, lie has been btiitcd Avitli the dchisioii of liis
self-i'i^hteoiisncss or of procrastiiuitioii or of infidel-
ity or something- which Avill destroy his immortal soul.
Satan has him angled and well in hand, and will hold
him, if his line is not broken, just as eifectually us
the worst of sinners he has ever baited to ruin.

Let us now notice more closely the details of our
picture.

1. There is the hook of lust as seen in the wounded
or broken heart held in the mouth of a well-dressed
dude, wearing a stovc-pii>c hat and a three-story col-
lar. This is the bait with which Satan catches mul-
titudes of men and women, especially the young; and
])crhai)s there is no sin so absolute and radical in its
effects upon the heart. When conscience is not
killed it often results in insanity; otherwise it pet-
rifies every sensibility and putrefies every affection.
IVIany a woman is dragged dow^n to degradation and
damnation by the "masher" and the seducer, the
most infamous scoundrel that w^alks the face of the
earth; and full many a young man is held in hell by
his feet, clutclied by a fallen woman, once the pride
and joy of a happy home.

2. Notice the hook of the bottle in the month of a
drunkard floating helpless upon the waves oi the
" Devil's Lake." About a million of these victims
of the devil's hook die in the world every year; and
there is no hook which holds so fast and fatal as this,
once fixed in the mouth of a burning appetite. The
bottle hook is almost universal, and it first catches
our boys in their teens, as it is flung out in the tens
of thousands of open saloons which flourish in this
country — licensed and legalized by law and boldly
and ably supported l)y the two great national political

414

TIIK DEVIL A-FISIIINT!.

parties of America. Fishing is only allowed in cer-
tain waters at certain times of the year; but the devil
IS licensed by law and sustained by public sentiment
to hsh tor the youths of America at all times and
seasons of the year— in the saloons.

3. Then there is the '' ahnUjhbj dollar'' hook. This
is the hook of avarice, and there are thousands, per-
haps millions of men, led by the nose to hell under
the temptation to love money— " the root of all evil."
Mammon is worshiped as the greatest of all the
world gods; and already in free and independent
America fifty thousand persons own seventy pei- cent.
of the wealth of the country, while the laborer toils
for a pittance and the consumer groans under a "rob-
ber tariff." The devil has not only hooked in his
millions of men with this bait, but he has hooked in
wliole nations with pride and luxury, to the ruin of
liberty and to the destruction of vital religion. Plu-
tarchy is one of the perils of our country, as it has
been the curse of other lands, and it would seem as
if the devil was about to hook in the whole of :N'orth
America.

4. Notice the butterfly hook. "Old Nick" has
Miss Sallie well m hand under the bait of vanity. She
thinks only of society— the dance, the theater, and
progressive euchre— and she lives only a butterfly
existence. Flounces and curls and paint and chalk
and rings and bracelets and ribbons and feathers and
flowers and chitchat and nonsense and gigglin<>-
are worth more to her than all the glory of heaven
and the life of eternity. I Imagine the devil laughs
fit to kill himself, or at least to split his sides, when
he catches a thing so silly as to bite at a butterfly.
It is such a cheap sell-out to the devil. It is such a

THK DKVTL A-KISII I \(i.

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snii-.i |)rice paid out tor fire and l)rinistoiU'; and yet
thousands of poor, silly, giddy, gay, and rasiiionable
people are bartering their souls every year to the
world, the llesh, and the devil lor the ehea[> enjoy-
ment of social dissii)ati()U and personal disi)lay.

5. Please lo(dv at that old glutton who is hooked
onto a ham of haeon. His god is his belly, and his
only dream is of beefsteak and nuittcm, s()ui)s and
stews, fish and oysters, ham and eggs, pies and pnd-
tlings — things finer or coarser, according to the style
of his menu, or l)ill of fare, ff you want to get at
his heart or his pocket-hook, just appeal to his stom-
ach. He has the dyspepsia and the gout and rheu-
matism and what not, but no doctor nor i)reacher can
turn him from his gorun\ndi/ing appetite, and the devil
will get him at last through one of the beastliest
temptations which ever entra[)ped a fool. Fortunate-
ly, this is not a universal sin, from the fact that but
few, comparatively, are able to pay ior it; l)ut Satan
Avill have, iu the end, not a few of this kind whom he
has fattened for the slaughter of death.

6. Again, notice that fellow who is caught with the
pack of cards hook, lie is the gambler, and under
his head may he classed that whole fraternity who try
to live by getting something lor nothing upon the
hazard of games ana speculations. They do not live
by the law of that labor Avhicli gains an honest living
in the sweat of the honest face, as God commands.
They "haste to be rich," many of them, and (Jod
says that they "shall not be innocent." The card-
])ack, the lottery-wheel, the pool, the craps, keuo, the
billiard-table — all of these are sweejiing their thou-
sands into sin, misfortune, and hell every day. Ciam-
bling has increased, it is said, over one hundred pei

41G

TIIK DKVIIi A-1'ISI11\(J.

ii!

ctMit. in ten years in tins country, and it would seem
as \l' tlie devil were about to hook in the Avholo nation
as one great, big, luige gambler.

7. I want y( u now to look at that num with a
erooked and angry serpent hooked into his nudicious
mouth, lie is the represt-ntative of scandal and shiii-
der and murder — tlie man w ho is ji'alous and envious,
full of malignity and liate; ever ready to stab your
character, injure your business, and take yoin- life.
The devil knows how to bait him, as well as all the
balance; and this is the vilest worm he ever puts upon
a hook. Every day we read of vitui)eration and re-
venge and murder, and our country has reached the
point — especially in the South— w hen lynch and mob
law dominate justice. Public sentiment is too cor-
rupt and weak to sustain the judge on the bench, and
a i)etit jiu'v has become the shame and the disgrace of
the age of civilization which gave it birth. There is
but one set of laws now which seem cai)al)le of exe-
cution — those which protect your;>oc/{'f/-/yoo/('; but when
it comes to life and character, men generally conclude
now that the shortest and surest way to justice is the
revolver or the lyncher's rope. Alas that the serpent
cannot be scotched according to law I but so it is in
our sunny land.

There are other kinds of hooks baited for infidelity,
self- righteousness, ritualism, hypocrisy, ambition,
amusement, indecision, melancholy, lying — every sin
of which human nature is tempted; but I have not
time to discuss them in detail. ^U\j God bless this
lecture to you all, and may you ever see my picture
before you when the devil is baiting you to ruin with
any of the temptations of lifel

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Little and Big End of Life's HoRfi.

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^SO^llAA Kdi'iiwn lor this oct'iisioii two horns, roii
c'll^A^' >Ji' ri'sciit'm<^ th(! "vneral course of siu'ci'ssfii

'^ n>-

ll^jb ri'sciit'm<^ th(! ^vneral course of siu'ccssfiil
Mr^ iuid unsuccc'ssfiil life; and this skctcli \h
y':f^ l)iised upon one of the trite maxims whicli
we so often liear: ^^ If yon wish io coine out at. the
biff end of the horn, yon mud yo in. at the little cml.'''
Into the little end of the up[)er horn you see a man
going. He is of snuill stature, and is squee mg in. It
is not uuich trouble, however, to get into the mouth-
piece of the horn, for it is always larger than the neck,
riic great difficulty lies in S(iuee/" ig through the neck
into the gradxud swell of the honi, which grows larger
and larger until you reach the big end. The ladder
■which reaches up to the mouth is called education, nwA
so this represents the early training essential to en-
trance upon the huslui'ss of life. '^I'he neck of the
horn is nuirked ^',r/;^r/V/'/r^, and this is thediflicult part
and period through whicli every business of life is to
])ass. The big end of tins horn is marked success, and
this is the end reached when the tinished man comes
out. You will observe that the num comes out much
enlarirod in size — tlie same little fellow Avho was so
small upon his entrance. He went in u])on a small
scale, he came through the diificult neck of experi-
ence, and he comes out successful and fully developed

(419)

I«

Jill

tl'J

420

LITTLK Ayi) BIG END OK LII'k's IIOIIN

accorU.no- to capacUy and according to tl)o size of the
honi lu« c-alilxT adapted liini to in the business of life
ill tlie second l.oni we see the rule of development
and success reversed. A great big ibHow, so to s,)eak
goes ni at the big end of the horn, and he comes out
the little end all shriveled and battered and dilapi-
duted lie started into business or profession full-
handed, and without education or experience for his
calbng; and if he does not stay there, as a fellow
sometimes does when he enters the little end, he -oes
on diminishing in size and importance until he gets
into the neck of experience and comes out at the
other and the little end. He gets his experience too
Jate, or at the wrong end of the lu.rn; and he comes out
nobody or nothing, only to descend the ladder of educa-
tion which the other man ascended before he entered
the horn at the little end. This second man ].roves a
failure, and his life is so far spent, his experience
comes so late, his energies and ambition are so far ex-
hausted, and so with his means and resources, that he
never attempts to recover. The little fellow goino- in
at the little end of the horn comes out with flyino-
colors and of grand ])i-o])ortions, while the big fellow
g<.ing m at the big end of the horn comes out shrunk
and shriveled into a pigmy, learning too late the ex-
perience essential to begin with, if he learns it at all
and too old and discouraged pprhaps, sometimes too
proud and incapable, to try the little end of the horn
by going the other way.

Let me say right here that the horn i-e]n-esents the
natural course of development. We ai-e born by nat-
ure into the little end of existence. We liave to lie
in the cradle before we can crawl, and crawl before
we can walk, babble before we can talk. Tlie man

LITTI-K AXJ> Hm EXn OF LIKK S IIOKV.

421

comes from the l)al)v, and thus "\ve "row physically
throun'h the horn of life from the little to the bin' end.
The same is true of oiu* intelleelual deyelo])meut, as
Aye learn our al[)habet before we spi'll, spell bel'ore \ye
can read and "\yrite, and master g-rammar and arithine-
tic before rhetoric and logic. AVhen education is lin-
ished, of Avhateyer degree or character, we haye come
from the little to the big end of the horn — our horn
being the size of our capacity, and some jjcople, intel-
lectually as well as i)hysically, haying a much larger
horn of deyelopment than others.

AVhat is true of the physical and mental is true of
the moral and spiritual. AVe do not get to be angels
and gods at once, lloweyer pure and holy a child's
conception of right and wrong, his knowledge and ex-
perience are negatiye i-ather than positiye; and it is
only through a gradual course of deyelopment that
truth and lighteousness are vitally and })ractically
comprehended or applied The Christian himself is
born a babe in Christ, and at first he must feed on milk
instead of meat, grow in gi-tico' and knowledge, and
come np by life-long cultui-e to the stature of nnm-
hood in Christ. I'aul himself did not claim the ])er-
fcction of develo])ment at any jx'riod of life, though
he boasted of justifying jjcrfection in Christ at all
times; and, foi-getting always the things behind him,
reaching forth unto the fidnre bel'ore him, he eyer
]>ressed i'or the ])rize of God's high calling in Clirist.
It was only at the end of his career that he exulted
that he had ''finished his course" — not eyen then
claiming perJection in the light of sanctifying grace.

These perfectionists — the "holiness" people — put
nieverymncb. in mind of a man going into the big end
of the horn first, or all at once; and my obseryation

ill

422 LITTLE AM) Bid END OF LIFE's llOUN.

has been that if they come out at all it is at the little
end. Sanctilication is evidently a growth in grace a
development from babyhood to manliood, not a si'i:-
gle leap to thin state by a "second blessing," of which
the Scriptures seem to know nothing. Sanctifica-
tion is the result of culture from the day of the new
birth to the close of life: (1) by the study of God's
woi-d, (2) by communion with God's Spii-it, (3) by the
exercise of Gori's work; and if a man will pursue this
culture from the little to the big end of the religious
horn he will come out as big and as perfect a man as
he can be made on this side of the grave. Paul went
in at the little end, and he came out shouting and ex-
nlting at the big end, just about the biggest man
Christ ov3r made in history. He kept the faith,
fought a good fight, finished his course, and then he
was rendy to be "delivered."

The unnatural course of develo]nnent is seen in the
fellow going in at the big end and coming out at the
little end of the horn; and the i-esult of such a course
is simply the reverse of development, or development
backward or downward. Of this course we see many
illustrations, as of the other and natural course.
There's Jim and Sallie. lie gets a pretty fair educa-
tion by havd licks and by observing and studying the
world around him, and she learns common sense as
well as books and how to bake a hoe-cake, milk a cow,
swoop the floor, and cut out a dress. Keithor of them'
have much in the world, but they determine to marry.
As the young fellow who had nothing said when he ■
asked the old num for his daughter, "I've got noth-
ing but two hands, and they are chuck full of day's
>TOrk," both of them had energy, /oal, and industry.
Jnn and Sallie got married, and Jim determines to ffo

LITTLE AXD ma EXH OK LIPE's HOHX.

423

into business, while Saiiie determines to run the phiin
little home which Jim and slic are able to own. Theii*
store is a small one, and their stock is meager, but it
is paid for. They gradually accumulate and save by
a rigid economy, and give what they can to their
Church, which they never neglect. They have entered
the mouth of the horn pretty easily, and they are now
going through the little neck of experience, learning
human nature and business by dint of hard licks,
making mistakes here and getting deceived there,
struggling against competition and avoiding extrava-
gance, and in this little neck of difficulty and trial
they stay for a few years. After awhile they begin
to swell ingrowth, importance, wisdom, money, means,
respectability, and honor. The business is increased,
a new and larger store is bought and owned; and after
awhile Jim and Sallieare rich and increased in goods.
They come out in life's close from the big end of the
horn, hai)py, honorable, useful, with a well-trained and
industrious family, and leave a good name and a rich
inheritance behind them.

Take another case. There is young George Gordon
Keynolds and ]Miss Xovclla Evangeline Burlinghamc.
They are both rich and trained up to luxury and ease.
George is fast and Xovella is airy and fanciful, and
both are extravagant. They get married, live in a
stone front, hire servants, ride in a carriage with a
driver in livery, havecham])agne suppers, and run a big
social schedule. George wants to go into business,
and he and Xovclla are worth fifty thousand dollars.
There is an old merchant over the way who Avants a
partner, George having lots of money and he having
lots of exjierience. They start np a big business,
hoist a blazing sign, and. move oil' with a flourish of

42J: LITTLK AXD BIO KM) OF LIFIo's IIOIJX.

trumpets under tlie firm name of '< Reynolds and
Living-stone." All ^ocs v.ell for ;iwliile, but George
belongs to the club instead of the Church, runs to
the theater and the gernuni, drinks tine brandy,
smokes Ilavanas, drives fast horses, and sports with
line dogs and stub-twist guns, keeps bad company
and late liours, occasionally g-oes home to IS'ovella late
at niglit; and ^Xovclla doesn't care nuicli, so George
keei)s the establishment in full blast. After a little
the house gets in debt and fails. Tlie books are iu
bad shape, but George doesn't know any thing about
them. An assignment is made, and George comes out
poor and ruined Avith the experience, and JSIr. Livin"--
stone witli tlie cash hid away yonder somewhei-e un-
der his liearth-stone. Geoige Gordon and Novella
Evangeline went in at the big end of the horn, and
they came out at the little end. They are youno-
enough yet to go in at the little end, but they are too
proud for that; and l)csidcsthis, they have not learned
the experience of the little neck in the horn bygoino-
in the right Avay according to the true law of devel-
opment.

Take tAvo young men at law — Tom Jones and Al-
exander Huntingdon D'Antigiuic. Tom is not brill-
iant, but he sticks to his books, ])lods along with lit-
tle cases, gains character and r(>putation by degrees
and gradually groAVs in means and position. Alexan-
der is brilliant. lie dashes olV grandly and gets a bi<i-
case. His eloquence and bearing ai-e quite popular.'
He pops champagne bottles and eats oyster sup])ci-s
Avith the boys. They run him for the Legislature, and
he is elected. Ite goes to the capital, and makes a big
speech, and gets drunk that night. He SAvells, and
then frolics, and then driidvs, and then gambles, and

LITTLK AXn BIO EVD OK LIFe's HORX.

425

then "plays out," and then goes lionie to resume his
law i^raetice, -which Tom has g()l)bled up in his ab-
sence. Alexander g-ocs down and Tom goes up, and
Tom has gained such a reputation for honesty and in-
tegrity, for good sense and ellicieucy, that he is put
lip for Congress in a few years and elected, lie iinal-
]y goes to the Senate or gets on the Supreme Bench,
■while Alexander has gone to the dogs, Tom went in
at the little end of the horn, slaid in the little neck
of experience ur.til he began to mature and swell to-
ward manhood and success, ami he linallycame out
grand and flourishing at the big end, Alexander
Avent in at the big end, gradually dwindled toward the
neck of experience at the wrong eml of life, and in
spite of his line talents and great abilities came out
all shriveled and bedwarfed and ruined. Tliis is a
common matter of obser\ation every whei-e.

Take the preacher. IIow often a seminary student
sails out of his class-room like an eagle and lights on
the steeple of some big, rich church, only to fail and
get down to hum^ '.er and still humbler work, until he
dies perhaps unknown to his own denomination! lie
goes in at the big end, and comes out at the little end
of the pastoral horn. IIow different with that boy
Avho feels that he is called of God to preach, takes up
his Bible, and goes to study, rolls up his sleeves, and
goes into the backw(Mjds, if necessary, and learns
wisdom and exi.erience among the people of God,
among all classes, and in all conditions! IIow many
of them luive come up gradually to eminence and
greatness by slo\v degrees, nuule by their own efforts
and experience under God; and who have left behind
them a v/ork and a name immortal foi- time and eter-
nityl Perhaps he woi-ked iiis way to college and the

III

■ .3

■

1!
ll

iffr"*?^

420

LITTLK AXD mg K\D OF LIFk's HOltV.

Hennnary, .shul.ed l.ard tc, bo a proacLcM. and a teacher
or God s o;lo,y and l.is fbllow-n.an'.s ^^^od, and when
he went out into the great wliitc harvest-fields of In-
b.)r he v;as led of God from one step to anothe.- of
(leveloinnent and position in the nunistry nntil ho
reached the t<.p. Jfe commenced ri<,d,t, and was hnm-
ble and >yilhng to he any Ihin,^. or nothing for Jesu«:
and t ns ,s abont the best conception of entering into
the httle end „i order to come out of the 1,1... "„d of
the minisleiial horn. "" ^Jiu oi

Look around and .see the great and mighty men in
all tlM. businesses nnd,>rofessions of lite, ^ine times
out ol ten they went into the litlle end of the horn to
come out of the big end; and if they entered the bio-
end at all, and succeeded, it was simply the little end
of a very b,g iiorn-as the young Yauderbilts and
others have done, and who were trained to business
and exj,enence before they inherited their estates
Our great and successful merchants, manufacturei-s'
lawyers, doctors, preachers, railroad men, editors'
M-nters, teachers- ^all of them, more or less, came froni
poverty and obecurity, from country or backwoods
I'lnces; and by the dint of toil, tears, ;weat, and' expe-
rience have risen to position and honor. So of our
inventors and discoverers, our scientists and i.hiloso-
l)bers-tlie Eadses, the Edisons, the Morses, the Frank-
lins, the Spurgeons, the Talnuiges, and a host of oth-
crs-they all canie up, more or less, from nothing and
nobody in the woi-ld. *

My friends, do not be in n hurry about the future
Commence little and low, go straight and slow, and
be sure to hiy a good foundation before you build
your house. Get an education first of all. This will
enable you to get more easily into the mouth of the

flli

LITTLE AM) UHi KM) Ol" LlKi; S IKJllX.

427

liorn. Do not scrk to avoid the tiibulatiou of tlie
little neck of exi)erieue('. '^^ri'ibulution worketh pa-
tience, and patience exi)erience, and exi)erieiice lio[)e;
and snch a lioi)e tlirough hucli a development will
bring' you to the big end of the horn and not make
you ashamed. It takes time to miika a man or a busi-
ness. A mushroom may grow up in a night, but a
corn-stalk Avill only reach a big and ripened ear after
months of rain and culture. You want to gkow by
careful, patient, progressive, cumulative, solid devel-
opment to the nuiturity of manhood and life-wovk.

In all ages the truly great men of the Avorld have
been those who came up the ladder of special train-
ing or education, and learned their business step by
step, as they developed Avith it. They gained their
most valuable knowledge in the cramped neck of ex-
perience. In squeezing themselves through by dint
of persistent ettbrt, they discovered their strong and
weak ])oints of character, and develoi)ed those facul-
ties necessary to lead them to success.

On the other hand, the young man who begins his
life-work on a large scale, Avithout a i)roper founda-
tion of education, ])reparation, and experience for
the business undertaken, is almost sure to fail. It is
not exaggerating the facts to say at least ninety-five
per cent, of them will go backw wd, growing smaller
instead of developing from the beginning; and, since
growth is the primal law of nature, any business or
any life that does not develop or become stronger is
virtually a failure.

Parents are too much disposed to cultivate in their
sons and daughters the belief that they, by virtue of
their birth, education, position in society, or wealth,
are exempted from the necessity of an apprenticeship

ill

i-i

428

LITTLE AND lUG END OF LIKe's IIOUX.

la the iu-«t principles of any business. They cannot
boar to see their ollsprin-^ strugg-lin. tln-ongh the neck
oj experience in bic's lu.rn. TI>ey will not stand idly
by With means of aid at their disposal .vhile their
pronusin- boy is fio-htin- with old ^^Uard Times " It
would break his spirit and make hini doubt his ability
to cope with the world, they think, to allow him to be
pressed by a creditor, or for one of his enterprises to
suller uncn they could relieve the conditions

_ Jiuluio-ent pai-ent, stoj, and think; let the boy %ht
h.8 battles whenever and wherever he is able to do so,
nnd ,t will streno-tben him. Are you not about to
Jielp your boy or indulge your daughter where it
would have ru.ned you in your young days to have
been helped or indulged? Look back twenty or for-
ty years, and you will, no doid)t, if vou liave been
successful in life, see yourself tigliting severer bat-
t es; but you onnm out victorious, and you know now
that your success in after life is due to the muscle,
brawn, confidence, courage, and self-knowledge that
you gained at that critical period.

Love your children, certainly, but you ought not to
Jet tliat so direct you in your conduct or manifesta-
tions toward them as to obscure that divine fiat "/«
the m^eatof thijace shalt thou eat bread,'' or to lead them
to believe tbat they should or can go through life on
flowery beds of ease." Impress them with the fact
that there is no «' royal road " to wealth, honor, or
worthy fame, except as every individual digs it out
and builds it for himself as he passes over it. Hang
up for them in your homes the motto, ''Everyman
IS the architect of his own fortune," and impress
them with the i<lea that whatever aid you may give
them is but a lever for their use, and unless they are

LITTLK A.VI) UUi KM) OF LIKK's 1I()J{\,

429

preptired l)y 8tren<i^th and knowledge to nse it, it will
be like a brawny laborer's heavy crow-bar in the
hands of a young and delicate child — a dangerous
plaything.

I would that all the young might know that the
nuijority of illustrious men and women have grow u
great in the neck of experience, and with whatever
blast the big end of the horn nuvy have heralded them
to the world, the force and power of that blast was
energized and coneentratcul in the little neck of ex-
perience. These eminent personages have left their
"foot-prints in the sands of time" for your benefit.
They all went in at the little end of the horn. Do
not despise the day of small beginnings. Be patient
in your training under old " Hard Times." lie will
treat you roughly and punish you severely now and
then, but he will toughen and strengthen every nms-
cle and faculty. He is a i)rince of trainers. Have
courage, be bravo and earnest, be patient and per-
severing, and when you shall have conquered him
the world will recognize and honor you as an athlete
in your calling.

Win your laurels before you wca\- them, and do not
be in too much haste. The worst phase of " young
America's" character is impatience. Ella AV heeler
has truthfully said:

The fault of the age is a mad endeavor

To leap to heights that wore made to dimb;

By a burst of strength, or a thought that is clever,
We plan to outwit and forestall time.

We scorn to wait for the things worth having;

We want high noon at the day's dim dawn;
We find no pleasure in toiling and saving,

As our forefathers did in the good time gone.

u ,

^1'

!i f^

430

LITTLE AND UK; K\I> OF LIKk's HOUX.

We force our roHos before their sensoii
To hlooiu Hiul blosHoin tliiit we uiav wear,

And tluii we womler and mk tlie reason
Why perfect buds are ho few and rare.

To covet the prize, yet shrink from the winninii-

lo tliifHt for glory, yet fear the i^^ht—
Why, what can it lead to at last but sinning.

To mental laugiu.r and moral blight?
Better the old slow way of striving.

And counting small gains when the year is done
Ihan to waste our forces all in contriving,

And to grasp i„r pleasures we have not^'won.

My young! Viends, read biograi,l,y. Changing, sonie-
Wliat the poet >s language —

Lives of great men best will tench us
How to make our lives sublime.

It is said tliat Alexander Avorshipcd the menioiy of
Aclulles, making liis life and deeds a constant study.
He carried Homer's poems continually with him, that
lie might read, over and over, the description (.f his
achievements. This made him the great warrior he
was. Saul of Tarsus worshiped the Sjurit of Jesus
Thrist, and carried his spotless moral character, his
matchless Avords of wisdom, his towering i)hilosoj)hy,
and his condescending kindness and svmpathy, ever
before his mind, his heart bui-sting'with the ex-
perimental consciousness of the fact, that he i)os-
sessed a truth the knowledge of which would give
every man who attained it not only jov and peace
for time, but make him happv, the" son of a Kino-
throughout all eternity. With such an example and
Avith such a consciousness, is it anv wonder that the
proud Pharisee Saul became the humble A])ostle
Paul, the mighty soldier of the cross? Alexander's

I.n TLK AM) UUi KM) OK LJFK .S IKJUX.

4:51

niodfl was iiuiu'iTect, uiiil tlic crown Avliicli lie wore
8o gloriously was liiicl aside and ])lac'i'd by selfish
hands upon iunbitioiis and unworthy lieids ^vhen, at
the early age of thirty-three, he died in Babylon.
Not so with Paul, who, when lie came to die, recoir-
nized that he was just ready to enter njion liis glory,
and standing, ns it Avcrc, iqion the very apex of time,
looked back over the ti-aek and viewed hinisell' in
the neck of experience. lie saw the bloody lash
with which he had been Hcourged, the cruel stocks
in which he had been fastened, the angry sea upon
which he had been wrecked, the stones with which
he had been beaten, the chains with which he had
been bound, the dimgeons into which he had been
cast, his perils before persecuting Gentile coui-ts, and
his dangers in the midst of hostile Jewish brethren;
yet amid it all he had come out victorious. Is it any
wonder he said: "1 have fought a good fight, I
have finished my course, I have ]<v\)t the faith?"
Then turning his face in the other direction, (iod let
him see his reward — an eteruiil ^' crown of rlgJiteous-
ness,^' that he should w^ear for ten thonsand times ten
thousand years. Alexander wore his crown about
fifteen or seventeen yeai-s. ■\Vhat was all that com-
pared to Paul's deathless and eternal honors?

My friends, lile's horn, after all, is bnt the begin-
ning of the great and infinite existence which lives
forever; and I believe that man in heaven itself will
continue to broaden and groAV and develop and ex-
pand, reaching nearer and nearer continnally to the
perfection, wisdom, and likeness of his God. If this
is so of heaven, the reverse must be true of hell.

May God dinict and guide us to enter aright " life's

horn," and bring us out like Paul in the end!
28

BEAUTY A DUTY.

►^-♦<H

N c'unHultin<^- muiiy authors we sliall find that

'^j^ the definitions of btauty vary sonievvliat,

according- to taste, tcnipenunent, and vo-

c-ation. Micliael Angelo, tlie great artist,
ays: "Beauty is the purgation of superihii-
ties." The too pliilosophic Sociates declared:
"Jieauty is a short-lived tyranny." Tlie emotional
Keats wrote: ''A thing of beauty is a joy forever."
The i)iou8 Bailey called it "the fringe on the gar-
ment of the Lord." The musical Mendelssohn ob-
served: " 'Vhe essence of the beautiful is unity in va-
riety." Ilalleck sadly said: "Beauty is the fading
rainbow's pride." The corrupt Ovid called it " a
frail good." "Beauty is truth, and truth is beauty,"
said another; and so we might muliiply definitions.

Again, different minds have conceivcrl differently
of beauty's i)ower. Pope says: "Beauty draws us
with a single hair." " To make happy," wrote Steele,
" is the empire of beauty." Shakespeare declares
that "all orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth; "
and again he says that " beauty provoketh thieves
sooner than gold." Pascal observes: "Tf the nose of
Cleopatra bad been a little shorter, it would have
changed the histor^^ of the world." Keats says: "It
is the eternal law that first in beauty should be first
(432)

HKAUTY A DUTY.

433

ill ini^ht." Bartol dccluroH thai lu'jiuty is an - oinni-
l)reHont deity." Sfliiilcr i.x,(iiisitoly v.rites: "it is;
only through Ihu inoiniii;,^ o^ate of the beautiful that
you can penetrate into the realm of knowled-^'-t'."

AVith Hueh eoiiecptioMs t)f (lie nature and ellieaev
of the beautiful, I feel free to lay down the proposi-
tion, ''lieaitfu in a duty; " and I desire especially to uj)-
])ly the subject as the duty of wonum— with such
li»'urri,. ons, of course, as embrace the beautiful in the
1/ue and the good. Woman's charm is her beauty,
• *^h> ther J lysical, mental, or moral. The fjuality does
no' so Ji.propriately a])i)ly to man. Personally he
wouJ despise to be called beautiful, pretty, or nice,
lie does not objet 1 to the handsome, the splendid, or
the grand; but he never enjoys the caricature of fem-
inine qualities or accomplishments. The rugged, the
picturesque, the sublime and lofty, suit him better.
The massive frame, the AVe])sterian brow, the rough-
ly-cliiseled, yet classic, feature become him more;
and what is physically true of him is indexical of his
mental and moral mold. AVe prefer that sublimity
and greatness in man which challenge our reverence,
homage, and awe; ])Ut in woman that beauty and pa-
thos which evoke our sympatliy, admii-ation, and.
love. The peculiar '^'^aracteristics in both have their
])eculiar enchantment; but, as in the objects of nat-
ure, we are moved by them dilferently. The tower-
ing peak, the storm-girt cloud, the hurtling thunder,
the boundless prairie, the heaving ocean — all these
inspire us with a wondrous awe, at a reverential dis-
tance. The sw'cetness of the opening rose, the melo-
dies of woodland Avarblers, the gambols of innocent
chilclren — these excite within us the warmth and
glow of the beautiful; and our hearts are affection-

434

ItKAUTV A DUTY

LU..L-

ately diawn about such scenes willi tlie r.-ipture of a
tender entranccinent. So, respectively, arc wo moved
by the grand or the beautiful in the person, life, and
character of indi^id^uds. In man the sublime char-
acteristically allects ns -with homage and r^vc; in
woman the beautiful entwines about our he :rts a
hundred chords of sympathy and love.

In the very natiu'c of things, then, my subject is
applicable alone to woman. It is her singular })rov-
ince to be beautiful, and she has no right to be any
clung- else but the very impersonation of the beauti-
ful. Corresponding Avith this first conception of my
subject, I present here an ideal picture of a personally
beautiful Avoman. She manifests the conscious mark
of intellectual and moral strength clothing her well-
proportioned and exquisitely chiseled features, which
are also warmed and animated by a sweet and queenly
expression. She has the air of independence and self-
confidence, without immodesty or boldness; and she is
not to be stigmatized with that doll-baby "2>re% " Avhich
is so often confounded with the beautiful, and which is
generally the sign of effeminacy and weakness, having-
no force of mind or character. Of course we all have
our ideals of physical beauty, and, having my own, I
have here given my conception fi m the stand-point
of harmony betwcon the ])hysical, Uicntal, and moral.
First of ad, let me say that it is her duty to be
2)ersonaJhj beautiful. Every personal atti'action ex-
cites the attention and interest of mankind, and such
attraction should inspire its admiration and affection.
This power of attraction is a force essential to wom-
an's Aveakness, and it should be cultivated and util-
ized as an element for good. All beauty is poAver,
especially personal beauty, and nothing but insensi-

(436)

riipyrlRhli"!.

BEAUTY A DUTY-PERSONAL.

,!!ii

BEAUTY A DUTY.

437

bility can escape its infiiienecj nothing but depravity
can bliglit its charm. To some p'jople tlic toad is a8
pretty as the r >oe, and to some beauty of person is
but the lodestone to licentiousness, " Unto tlie pure
all things are pure," and true love " thinkcth no
evil." To such, only does the quality of the beauti-
ful enh uce and heighten the quality of the good, and
hence there is nothing more effective for good in the
individual than the power of sacred and consecrated
beauty. Its moral effect in the pure penetrates into
the sublime, and the fair for.'n and the beautiful face
of a spotless and holy vv^oman, xnoviuj amid the cir-
cles and callings of social life — utilizing her powers
and opportunities — is the most exquisite image of
divine grace ever painted upon the vision of every
true lover of nature and of nature's God. A sweet
and lovely woman reminds us most of paradise and
angels, and no mortal influence so educates and ele-
vates us to the angelic and the heavenly as the godly
life of a beautiful and fascinating woman. Witbher
we are wont to associate the angel of purity, love, and
mercy; and the only being upon earth entitled to the
claim of the angelic is tl o good and the beautiful
•woman. AVe never call a man cii angel — except
when he resembles a Gabriel, a :Michacl, or a Lucifer

however splendid his form or nuijestic his mind;

but beantifnl and glorious woman ahvays floats in
our dreams and crosses our patlnvay, like one of that
cherubic host which ministers humbly, but most
swee'.ly, around the great wdiite throne.

Personal beauty, therefore, is a possession, and may
be an accomplishment of ram dignity and power; and
it shotild be cultivated to the highest degree of per-
fection as an art. There is no sin in beautiful dress,

i
1 1

fffltMi

438

HEAUTY A J)UTY.

.t '! - Hi

graceful figure and nioveuient, elegant niauuer, the
■ presei-vatiou of ruddy health, the cultiNation of regu-
lar habit and rational exei-cise, the avoidance of every
form of dissipation or life Avhich depreciates and de-
stroys beauty. Do every thing to acquii-e personal
charm, consistent Avith virtue and modesty, and ab-
stain from every thing which would detract from that
God-given grace which none but a woman can hope or
need to possess. If necessary to supply physical de-
ficiencies, there =s no great sin in the appliance of
artifice— provid. no one is defrauded by the ruse.
Cosmetics, capillary appendages, and artificial den-
tistry are often valuable helps, A,hen needed; and both
young and old, good and bad, employ them to aid de-
fective nature. It is our duty to help nature all we
can, and were I a woman, I wonld try to be as beau-
tiful as nature and art would enable me. We all have
the faculty of taste, and we are all more or less con-
scious of the irresistible force of beauty. Upon this
point, howcAcr, I wish to indulge in two important
observations:

1. Personal beauty is sure to fade away. In this
respect the homely have the decided advi<ntage.

Beauty's but skin deep,

And ugly's to the bone;
Beauty fades away,

But ugly holds its own.

The rose and the lily must perish with each coming
season, and theb- beauty and fragrance, however
sweet, must vanish. Physical beauty, like all the
fading glories of earth, is evanescent, and the only
permanent etfect of woman's fair young graces lies
ill that sweet odor of remembrance which a virtuous
and pious beanty may leave behind it. Old age and

BEAUTY A DUTY.

130

decay come on a])!ice, and all the personal charms we
used to have are laded into wrinkled faces, gray hairs,
and tottering forms. Even then the virtuous cultiva-
tion of beauty, in the past, leaves its rich tracei-ics,
like the hand of art upon the crumbling column; and,
like the dew of Gideon's Heece, the sweet perfume of
beautiful young womanhood Avill remain when the
fleece of your graces is gone. . The groAvth of years
is tempered to change and decay, and Ave need not
grow old or unseemly Avith regi-et, if beauty of \k'v-
son has been blended into the l)cauty of a life Avhich
can never fade away. Time, hallowed and utilized by
good, is the cure of all our young vanities, and, like
the shock of corn Avith its Avithered leaves and faded
verdure, Ave ripen to the harvest of life's golden sum-
mer, to bloom and fructuate again Avith immortal
youth upon another shore. The time Avill come again
Avhen Ave shall exclaim, even of ourselves, if good:

See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph descending,
And nature all glowing in Eden's first blcom;

On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.

True beauty shall live again. If good and true, Ave
shall never mourn the past, and its losses of beauty
and freshness are more than substituted by the ri-
pened fruit and the amaranthine bloom Avhich sup-
plants the earthly flower.

Cold in the grave the perished heart may lie,
But that which warmed it once can never die.

Xevertheless, take care of your body and your beau-
ty Avhile you can. God gave them to you, and he
Avill require them at yo^w hands. You b?" r^ no right
to mar or waste them. It is your dxit^ ■ ■ cultivate
and preserve them for ornament and use — more so

^r-

■'V

HEAUTY A DUTY.

than the roses in your garden. You art- not to vain-
ly idolize } our personal beauty, nor lead v;hers to do
so, for it nuist die; and all idolatrv is not only sin,
but a sacrilegious perversioi; of tlic use of what \vc
possess.

2. Not only docs perst-nal beauty fade away, but it
is often a dangerous and deadly thing Avliile it liv?s.
" It is seldom," says Bacn, - ihat beautiful persons
are otherwise of great virtue." " '« hat which is; strik-
ing ur.d beautiful," says an^.Uic}-. "i^ not ."dways
good;" althoug]} the same autlior says, "That which
i» good is nl,vay8 beautiful." The Latin poet, Juve-
vial, likewise said: "Rare is the union of beauty and
> i> tue." Ileauty is a power for evil as well as for good.
It may bo the charm of the serpciit, as of the angel;
and it may be by the serpent charmed into deadly
vanity and ruin. Nothing has ever fallen so often or
BO low as beauty; and nothing, onee depraved and
fallen, has ever been so vain, deceitful, and desper-
ately wicked. Hence no beings are in so much dan-
ger nor so dangerous as the beautiful. God's noblest
gifts and graces, abused, become the devil's subtlest
snare and his deadliest ruin; and the unlawful pride
of beauty is certain to fall somewhere. Absalom was
unfortunately and fascinatingly beautiful, and Avith
the wiles and arts of his graces he stole the hearts
of the people and dethroned his father. His luxuri-
ant head of hair — one of the chief objects of his per-
sonal vanity and attraction— finally helped to hold
him, caught in the great oak on which he was killed
upon the field of battle; and, like thousands before
and since, the pet of his pride became the instrument
of his destruction. Moses was bea ' ul, even in the
sight of God; but his personal gn , and the adu-

lUi)

CopyrlRhtctl Ait rlxJirn nsrrvcrt.

BEAUTY A DUTY-INTELLECTUAL.

HEAUTY A DUTY.

413

lation of liis admirurs never turned his great head
nor changed his great heart. Jt is a most inifortunate
tiling, generally, i'or a niau to be beautiful. It almost
invariably turns him into a dude or a villain. Hence
God made nio^t men ugly, and he has not ni.ide many
Avomen very ])i'etty. Beauty, like diamonds, is a jew-
el rarely found, and hence it is so highly api)reciated
when of the first Avater.

Beautiful people should be the best people in the
world. The licentious are ever on the watch for ini-
Busi)ecting beauty — like the bottled spider that weaves
his web for the silly lly — and often behind a beautiful
face there is nothing but an empty head and a soul-
less heart. There are those whose trade is to drag
down angels, and there is nothing the lecherous vam-
pire feasts upon so wolfishly as the blood of vanity.
The fair and exquisite flowers which bloom and fade
amid the gay and giddy gardens *>'■' fashionable and
vicious society are oftenest plucked by the ruthless
red hand of lust. Beauty is often a a icljmizer, but
it is oftenest victimized. As an angel of light, it
sometimes drags down the giant; but more frequent-
ly still the serpent blights its charms and poisons its
fragrance, as it sleeps amid the perfumed rose-beds
of vanity's dreamy indulgence. Cultivate your beau-
ty, however beautiful, as a power for good; but re-
member that it is a power for evil and that it is the
commonest snare to ruin.

"We introduce as the illusti-a n 'f intellectual
beauty the Hon. Mrs. K'orton, an English authoress,
the writer of the celebrated poem, " Bingen on
the Ehine." Her magnificent face and physique, to-
gether with the mark of her intellectual endowments,
make her the model and symbol, par excellence, of in-

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HKAUTY A 1)1 TY.

tellertnnl beiii; ■ , aiul I place her i)jeturc before the
young roiuler, especially us the inspiration of our ris-
iiii? female genius in the South. But few of our in-
tellectual women can ever hope to enjoy the personal
si)Ien(lor which Mrs. N^orton's picture would indicate;
but, letting the symbol n"l impersonation mirror the
intellectual excel .Ciice oi lemal.j genius, the model
can be subjectively if not objectively imitated.

This brings us to another great consideration of
this subject. Beauty is a duty from the stand-point
of a higher and holiei culture. Every woman is not
personally beautiful. The purest and noblest of our

female society are often but comely and passable if

not homely. Many of thciu are not personally beau-
tiful at all, and it is often t^e case that natuie cuts
her greatest freaks in putting the most brilliant minds
and noblest hen ts in the roughest casket- The fin-
est blooded stock sometimes look ill-proportioned,
diminutive, and bony. ^Ihe best milker or trotter is
not always, if ever, the handsomest animal, and tlie
nightingale and the mocking-bird are not so beauti-
ful as the oriole or the bird of paradise with "(s gold-
en plumage, Handsome cattle are often kept for
show— or worse, for ,-hambles. The excellent and the
iisefni are j'idged 1 v^ their virtues, and not by their
external beauty alone. Some things are created for
use only, some alone for ornament, and some for both
ornam ..t aiul use. The latter i:, true of woman, and,
however personally attractive, she is cipable by cult-
ure of becomijig just ; eautiful as she U excellent
and useful, ^yh\ a i)olished brain, a i)nre heart,
and a graceful (U -ar >r, she may throw around her-
self and her life the and charms to which the un-
tutored beauty of nature is a Strang- : ; for many of

BEAUTY A DITV.

445

the most exquisN; naturivl beauties are rentlerod
graceless and chanulcss Tor the wiuit of comniou
sense and good training. Trite but true —

Full many a dower is born to blush uiiHoen,
And waste its swoetness on the desert air.

People of true culture ami taste arc only attracted by
refinement, and whatever is not refined or refinal)le
will keep its lowly level, or seek it when raised above
it. Ilnpolishcd, awkward, ill-numnered, senseless
beauty — much more a vain and allccted beauty — can
only attract the vulgar or the bane. Such charms go
for naught, like a jewel in the pig's snout; and yet
by culture every such beauty could become an irre-
sistible attraction. It is said that " beauty muulurned
is most adorned."' This nia\ l»e true so far as the ar-
tificial trappings and trumpery are concerned, but
there is nothing so beautiful or sublime in us that
culture cannot ini[)rove. It is the province of art to
bring out, as well as imitate, nature — to erase its de-
fects and to suppl} its deficiencies; and so the science
of culture has developed the moss from the brier-
rose, the luscious garden strawberry from its little
sour sedge-field ancestor.

The province of education is, to tho^e Jiot possessed
of physical graces, to take advantage of nature, and
by culture make us Ibrget i)ersuiuvl defectS in the
fascinations of refinemiMit. Brilliant brain, electric
heart, elegant speech, graceCu; manner, modest de-
portment, spotless virtue, '(tautiful character, useful
life — these cover a multitude of physical wants and
personal defects; and many persons who at first ap-
pear uncomely to us grow beautiful by acquaintance
and association. Intrinsic excellence, to be appre-
ciated, must always grow by study — a fact not appli-

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440

HKAUTY A DUTY.

cal)le to the ineiviy cxtonml. Tlu' (linmoiKls in the
iieekluce of purity grow inoro diiz/liiig, the liojit of
the Intellectual eye beoonie.s more Hparkling, the iilii-
bastiM- of the modest laee deepens to roseate, every
feature and fashion of the noble spirit assumes more
of the divine or the angelie, as we stand and study
the forms of cultivated mental and moral beauty.
AVhat once seemed ugliness and deformity fades from
the vision, ami the developing beauty of the soul be-
comes the mysterious absorbent or dissipation of
physical imi)erfection. A^irtuous refinement cannot
admire the beautiful gossip, the accomplished flirt,
the finished butterfly, the silken flounce which covers
nn ounce of brains in a bushel of nonsense and use-
less attainments. Jler mind, if she reads at all, is
iinl)ued only with novelty and romance; her fancy,
if cidtivated at all, floats alone amid the fictions of
the play-house and the giddy dreams of the round
dance; her tongue ])lay8 alone upon the chords of
silly chatter, and her fair and exquisite form is
decked and i)ampered off only for the senseless and
useless display of a frivolous, fashionable, and dissi-
pated life— all, perhaps, under the tutorship ami en-
couragement of her foolish old mother, who has no
higher conception of her daughter's destiny and dig-
nity than to shine in so-called society! Her life'is a
phantom, and hei- hope is ashes. The beauty and
glory of tin belle oftenest diminish by study, as
they ftide into the thin air of an aindess and godless
existence. It is the splendor of the soap-bubble and
the froth and sparkle of the syllabub. God never
created a beauty for such a purpose and such an end;
and how noble it is to the ciedit of those who, Avith-
out the advantages of a beautiful nature, like artists,

HKAITV A 1)1 rv.

447

c'ouvtTt their blnuishoH into -lorien; who n.nko us
forpt their (lefc-cts hy n.^nossino- ....r mhnimtion,
and vvlio l)y culture l)t.c„rne the ta.oiiuitinif wonder of
our study!

^rw(, thiu-s arc osseutinl f. l.eauty ns an oflect, uat-
^••al oi- c-ultivatod: u-ia-.H-tisu. „|' u.iud au<l force ..I
character. These ekMueuts of beautv constitnte the
secret of power, and their absence, in the absence ol
natural graces or with them, puts us at a serious dis-
advautaye, from every inlluential stand-point. These
elements of power, ad.led to natural beauty, make it
an irresistible rascinati<.u; and ii, the absence of the
external, combined with the culture of the beautiful
they obliterate a thousand defects. Kefined and ele-
vated, we cannot resist them if we would, and we
would not if we could. How far these innate bio-
logical and moral forces are themselves subject to
culture I know not, but they are the charm of the
serpent in evil and the magnet of the angel in good.
One of the most captivating women [ ever knew pos-
sessed these forces. She had an ill-proportioned nose,
high cheek-bones, and a sallow complexion; but she
had an intellectual and imj)assioiied eye, an eloquent
and musical voice, a bi-illiant and cultivated address,
a graceful and easy manner, a magnetic will, a pol-
ished education, and a pure heart. She loved the
true, the beautiful, and the good, and she could hold
you spell-bound in conversation. You felt as if you
were in the atmosi)here of flowei--gardens, verdant
lawns, and luxuriant groves— filled with music and
refulgent with golden light and flitting with angelic
visions. At first she seemed homely and ugly, but
phe pew handsomer and lovelier by increasing ac-
quaintance and contact. She had me en rapport and

'M8

HEAUTY A DUTY.

in rapture, and, after a little, she did not look ug-lv at
all. The affections of those who studied and under-
stood her hest entwined about her as the ivy al)out
the oak; and, by the way, this is the secret of so
nuuiy happy and useful marriages among- what we
call ugly ])eople. This lady illustrated the adage
that ''beauti/ is as beauty does,"' and what might be add-
ed, as beaut;) thinks and beauty lives. She was what you
might call a grand woman! I heard her husband
once thank ( Jod that he had married her, and that no
other man had happened to the good fortune of think-
ing her as beautiful as he did. lie was a man of
great common sense and grand proportions.

Occasionally young ladies mourn that they are not
beautiful. They are not courted and flattered as oth-
ers are, and they are disposed to think hard of God
and nature for not doing- a better part by them. They
feel that their chances for marriage and social posi-
tion are not so great. They should remember that
tastes vary, as there are " many men of many minds,"
and that meii of sense are not governed hy appear-
ances simply. The ugliest people in the world get
married, and the homeliest grace the finest circles of
society. Elizabeth, the g-randest of queens, was un-
comely, and yet her mind — her magnetism and force
of character — ruled with dignity and power the
mightiest throne in Europe. In force and attrac-
tion she was infinitely superior to the beautiful and
accomplished Mary, Queen of Scots. She possessed
imperial majesty, but she Avas too masculine to be
loved. She was, nevertheless, a fine illustration of
that power and fascination of mind and character
which rises superior to all the merely external graces
and endowments of beauty. The world never loves

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MEAUTY A DUTY.

451

the masculine in w(»man, but it admires queenly grace
and power, and there never was a woman too uo\y to
win the hand and heart of the right man, if* she had
the elements of beauty and power in her soul, coupled
with a fascinating cuitui-e and character. Most men
are not anxious to iuan\ many of our beauties — so-
called. There is often too much reason to be afraid
of them. The noblest men have been deceived, and
the colossal ami the Titanic have fallen prey to the
deadly charms of voluptuous and deceitlnl beauty.
David slew Croliatli, but the beauty of Bathsheba put
a stain ujwn his great character forever. Samson bore
off the gates of Gaza, but Delilah bound him to ruin
Avith a single hair of her head. Solomon's heai-t, it is
said, was as deep as the sea, but woman found the
bottom of it. Antony paid the glory of a world for the
fascinations of Cleopatra. The beautiful but fichle
Helen wrought the ruin of Priam's house and the
desohition of classic Troy.

As the highest tyi>e of a beautiful character you
now behold the mother leading her child — with the
rose and the lily, symbols of Jesus — up the shining
pathway to the ci-oss. On the right is the bi-oad down-
ward way to destruction, and the old serpent lies at
the entrance ready to bite the i'cet of the little one just
stepping upon the arena of i-esponsible life. On the
left is the thorny, Avinding road to the temple of fame
and glory, representing wovldliuess. The path to the
cross lies between, and the loving mother directing the
feet of her little one to Christ and the Church is, to my
mind, .he sublimest picture of the beautifu', religious-
ly and spiritually illustrated. Here beauty and duty
blend in the loftiest and noblest work of life— leading,
first of all, our little lambs to Jesus and tlie cross.

452

HEAUTY A DUTY.

Let me say, in the tliird and last place, therefore,
that the cultivation of the beautiful in wouuui does
not consist in pedantry and aifectation. Dress parade
and the assumption of airs, by a woman, arc disgusting-,
however personally beautiful she nuiy be. There is
nothing like the blush of modesty, graceful address,
gentle demeanor, the flash of intelligence, the radiant
smile of virtue, the sparkling robe of character, the
evidence of good breeding and culture. There must
not be any thing shoddy in beauty. Thank God for
what he has done for you, and then— like a sculptor
Avith chisel in hand, with an angel vision, befoi-e his '
marble block— transform the crudities of nature intO'
shapes of beauty about both soul and body. Make
the most of your natural gifts and graces. Add to
that which is good, subtract from th-^ which is vi-
cious, divide that which is superfluous, and mul-
tiply tiie talents of virtue. You are nothing without
beauty; but beauty without education is nothing.
Your glory consists in the life of beauty— that beau-
ty which is founded in the true, the good, and the
useful. Shakespeare truly says,

O how much more does beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!

The rose is fair, but fairer we it <T em
For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
Ruffini has said: '"Beauty is an exquisite flower, and
Its perfume is virtue." Indeed, Shakespeare sums up
the whole truth of the subject when he says; "Virfm
ts beautyr Be beautiful, therefore, as you are good and
true, and remember that the most beautiful garment
a woman ever wore is the i-obe of true religion A
godly woman is the brightest gem in the Saviour's
crown, and no angels have ever so ble««ed and bean-

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BEAUTY A DUTY.

453

tified this Ijliglited oartli as the pious motliers and
wives, daughters and sistei-s, who liave spread tlieir
mantles of love and purity over the cradles of our
childhood and over the struggles and sorrows of oui-
manhood, ^o Avoman is truly beautiful without re-
ligion. Whatever her fascinations, an impious wom-
an is an anomaly and a monster; and her every grace
of nature and culture pales or blackens Avithout the
grace of God. The greatest women the world ever
knew were the Marys and the jNIarthas, and somehow
we always associate the beautiful and the good Avith
their names. They are household titles, and there
are more Marys and Marthas in the world than any
other names. Rachel and Kebecca, Ruth and Esther,
Phoebe and Dorcas have become more cele^M-ated
than Elizabeth or Josephine or Joan of Arc. Relio--
ion was their crown and glory, and the beauty of
their history and of their lives sweetens the centuries
with an imperishable perfume. Mary was not so great
as Jesus, but supei-stition reverences her, even to-day,
iis the mother and queen of heaven.

Finally, young ladies, I leave my subject with you.
Beauty is a duty. Cultivate ir as a power for good.
"Without it, in its essential senses and forms, you are
powerless for any of the objects of a good and glori-
ous life. You cannot assume any characteristic or
office of man and have the ])ower of a woman. Men
do not love men. Hence you can be and do nothing
without being womanly, and you can wield no inliu-
fnce without womanly lieauty. Lost to beauty, you
are lost to that sym])athy, admiration, and love essen-
tial to your usel'ulness and hapi)iness. Nothing but
l)eauty in Avonuvn can evoke love, and nothiuf^ but
love can make you blessed or yield to your suprenuicy.

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454

BEAUTY A DUTY.

When you come to die, may you look back upon
home and country and Church sweetened with your
beautiful, lovino-, and useful existence— not wasted in
the tlesert air of obscurity, nor poisoned by the at-
mosphere of an ill-spent career. Upon the tomb of
each of you may there be written, with an angel's
hand, the epitaph inscribed by Ben Jonson to a
voung- lady:

Beneath this stone doth lie
As much of beauty as could die.
Which when alive did vigor give
As much of virtue as could live.